


Inspecting my bruises (I got them trying to save the world)

by Dancey96



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sports, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Brock was not a good boyfriend and his appearance is brief, Bucky probably wants to call Steve 'sir' but he doesn't, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Minor Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli, Mixed Martial Arts, Past Bucky Barnes/Brock Rumlow, Questioning Steve Rogers, Sort Of, Steve calls him 'baby' though and he loves it, Steve's big queer sexual awakening, open but hopeful ending, some fights are unisex but there are weight classes, standard Marvel cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancey96/pseuds/Dancey96
Summary: In the world of mixed martial arts, the Avengers Combat Tournament is the next level of competition where the athletes are the best of the best and the fighting style is almost superhuman. With hopes to succeed in the sport, Steve Rogers is struggling to garner the attention he needs from the press. Enter Bucky Barnes, a public relations agent with no interest in ACT whatsoever, but with a growing fascination for Steve.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 58
Kudos: 173
Collections: Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally time!
> 
> I want to thank the NASBB2020 mods for their fantastic work organising this bang and helping me out along the way.
> 
> A big, big thank you to my artist, [deisderium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium/), for sweeping in as a pinch hitter and making the most amazing art--not one, not two, but THREE pieces plus a banner! How talented you are!
> 
> And thank you to my beta readers [missberrycake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missberrycake) and [a_very_confused_fan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_very_confused_fan) who were quick to get through the fic and provided great feedback and encouragement.
> 
> Now onto the story, I hope you enjoy it. Title from the song 'Savior' by St Vincent.

Steve threw the sports magazine onto the table in front of him, reclining back in his seat with a huff.

“I thought you said it was going to be a two-page spread, not this blurb about how much I bench press.”

Natasha glanced up from her computer screen to give him an unimpressed look. The redhead was infamous for her cold stare that had stopped many a man in his tracks. It came in handy when negotiating contracts or scaring off unwanted advances; Steve, however, was all but immune to it at this point.

“What?” Steve asked. “You did.”

“No,” she responded, “I didn’t. I told you they’d requested an interview and a quick photo shoot at the gym. That doesn’t guarantee a two-page spread, it just means they wanted to talk to you and take some pictures.”

Steve pursed his lips in frustration. She was probably right. Still, he thought it would be something a little bigger.

“I’m sorry you were expecting more but, to tell you the truth, I don’t particularly know how to go about that kind of thing,” Natasha admitted. “I set up fights, not photo ops.”

“I know,” Steve sighed. “It’s just...now that I’m finally in the big leagues I want to be acknowledged for what I do. What I’m good at.”

Natasha gave him a sympathetic look; she knew how hard Steve had worked to get to this point in his career. Joining the Avengers Combat Tournament had always been the central goal for him, ever since he was a gangly kid who spent all his free time practicing martial arts. When he initially hired Natasha to manage him it had been the first thing he’d told her. There was no other endgame for him; he would be an ACT fighter. And after years of training hard and fighting harder, he’d finally done it. With the level of unwavering dedication Steve had for the sport, he deserved to be noticed. He was a damn good fighter. Natasha told him as much.

“Thanks, Nat,” he replied softly.

“How about this,” she tried. “I’ll do some hunting for a PR agent and set up a meeting as soon as possible. We leave them in charge of getting you more press coverage and hopefully with the added publicity you’ll start landing some bigger fights and bigger paychecks. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Steve agreed, smiling at his manager.

“Okay then,” Natasha said, grinning back. “Now get out of my office.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Steve left happy and hopeful.

“Right,” Natasha sighed, turning back to her computer. “Let’s find someone then.”

⁂

“Barnes! New client.”

Bucky looked up in time to see his boss drop a file on his desk, turn on his heel, and continue walking. Chester Phillips wasn’t known for his polite social skills and friendly demeanour, that’s for sure, but everyone who worked at the agency was familiar with his strict, no-nonsense attitude. Ultimately, it made them a more efficient business. Still, Bucky could go without the barking orders and austere dress code expected at Shield PR.

“Great,” he sighed, flicking open the folder.

“Oh please,” came a familiar voice from the doorway. “I’d kill for a new client right now.”

Bucky watched Peggy set a fresh cup of coffee on his desk for him before she pulled the folder towards her. She took a pensive sip from her tea as she looked over the file, staining the porcelain rim the same red as her lipstick.

“Just because you’re bored with all your fancy vineyards or whatever doesn’t mean we all are. I’ve had it up to here with that fucking pop star and I really don’t have time for a new client.”

“Yes, yes, we’ve all heard about his scandalous affairs,” Peggy sighed. “I’m pretty sure his management wants to drop us because they think it’s our fault for not keeping it quiet.”

“But he’s the one that keeps posting shit on Instagram,” Bucky whined, rubbing at his eyes in frustration. Just thinking about it was giving him the beginnings of a migraine.

“And that’s why we’ll all be glad to see him go.”

Bucky inhaled deeply, accepting Peggy’s word. Even Phillips would be happy to be rid of that walking publicity nightmare. Bucky should be grateful for the change, really.

“Who’s this then?” he asked, turning back to the file.

“Steve Rogers. ACT fresh meat who wants to up his exposure and expand his fanbase.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t like posting photos of illegal narcotics on the internet.”

Peggy grinned at that, straightening up and heading to the door.

“Good luck,” she called over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

Bucky mumbled a belated thanks and scanned over the folder in front of him.

“Steve Rogers,” he recited as he typed it into his search bar on the computer and hit enter.

The first results that came up were a few news articles that didn’t provide much information beyond a brief fitness regime and preferred meal plans, but it was the photos of the man that caught Bucky’s eye.

Steve Rogers was hot. Like, fresh out the oven and smothered in chilli sauce _hot_. He had bright blue eyes and a charming smile. His neatly trimmed blond hair and chiseled features were classically handsome and his muscular shoulders looked wide enough to mount.

“Shit,” Bucky hissed, glancing around his office as if someone might have overheard his inappropriate thoughts. He shook his head at himself and turned back to the screen.

Steve Rogers.

Okay then.

But before he could start brainstorming campaign ideas, he’d better work out what ACT actually meant.

“Oh,” Bucky exhaled a few moments later. “He’s a boxer…No, wait…wrestler?”

It turned out ACT was a sport. Bucky’d never had any sporting professionals as clients, not because he actively avoided them, it just hadn’t happened. It was probably for the best considering Bucky knew next to nothing about sports. He went for the odd jog around his neighbourhood to stay in decent shape and did a few push-ups every now and then, but actual organised sports didn’t appeal to him in the slightest. The Avengers Combat Tournament was even further out of his league; Bucky had never thrown a punch in his life, let alone some of the stuff he saw in his brief search online. Bucky felt severely underqualified to handle this client. No matter how attractive he found the fighter, he’d no doubt be better off with someone else acting as his agent.

Bucky grabbed the folder and left his office. Further down the hallway, he bypassed Phillips’s door and instead knocked on the one opposite.

He heard a quiet ‘Come in,’ before he pushed open the door and greeted Phil Coulson, another one of Shield’s senior directors.

“James. How can I help you?”

“Mr. Coulson, it’s about the new client I’ve been assigned.”

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s just that he’s an ACT fighter and I don’t feel as though I’m the most suited agent to help him.”

Coulson set down his pen and gave Bucky a reassuring smile.

“James, you should have more confidence in yourself. I know you were struggling with Mr. Ward but we just received a call from his management and they’ve decided to take his image in a different direction, so you’re down a client. And before you apologise, we’re happy about that decision since it was reflecting badly on our organisation and everyone knows how hard you were trying to work with him.”

“Thank you, Mr. Coulson.”

“So I think a change will be good for you. And even if I didn’t think that I’m afraid everyone else is swamped so it makes sense that you should take on this new client while another one of yours leaves. You’ll have enough time freed up to really focus on this fighter.”

“Yes, but I’m still not sure we’ll be a good fit.”

Coulson waved his hand in the air and picked up his pen again.

“Nonsense,” he disagreed. “Just put in the time. ACT is a great sport; I’m sure you’ll find this a rewarding experience.”

With that final statement, he returned his attention to the paperwork in front of him and Bucky was left to excuse himself. While Coulson was undeniably calmer in demeanour than Phillips, they were both equally as authoritative in their positions. No one at Shield was reckless enough to ignore an order from either of them.

Bucky sighed to himself as he walked back to his office. Apparently, there was no getting out of this one; Steve Rogers and his PR problems were Bucky’s to solve. Maybe he could convince Peggy to take him out for consolatory drinks.


	2. They Meet

Bucky stepped over the threshold of Howlies Gym, hesitant and wary. He hadn’t spent a great deal of time at places like this and was feeling considerably out of place.

“Hi there,” the woman at the front desk greeted him. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, I’m here to meet with Steve Rogers and his team.”

“Oh, you’re the PR guy. Sure.”

“Bucky, hi,” he grinned, taking hold of her outstretched hand to shake.

“Sharon. Good to meet you.”

Bucky watched her come out from behind the desk and followed her through to the main floor.

“Oi, Sam!” she called out. “Your guy is here.”

A handsome black man turned towards the pair with a bright, friendly smile.

“Hey,” he said, raising his hand as Bucky headed his way.

“Sam Wilson, Steve’s trainer,” he introduced himself with a firm handshake.

“James Barnes, but call me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” Sam laughed. “That’s different.”

“I grew up with a lot of Jameses,” he explained with a shrug. “Never dropped the nickname.”

“Nah, it’s all good. We like that kind of thing at Howlies.”

“It’s a great spot,” Bucky complimented, taking a better look around the gym. The open space was a converted warehouse with various workout stations set up around the floor. There were quite a few people around, taking up most of the spaces on the equipment, but it wasn’t overly busy like some of the other places around the city. For the most part, it seemed like a pretty standard gym, but it was the boxing ring set up in the middle of the floor that drew Bucky’s attention. Following his brief time spent reading up on ACT he knew it wasn’t just an average boxing ring; no doubt it had removable walls of reinforced perspex that bordered the ring like the ones he’d seen online, and a fitted mat with ACT patented padding technology, which was apparently the envy of all professional MMA organisations. Bucky could see a square grid of suspended beams of the same perspex hanging from the ceiling, waiting to be lowered to enclose the structure. An ACT Cube was like a giant glass display case where the audience had an uninterrupted view of two fighters beating the shit out of each other. To be honest, Bucky was really struggling to see the appeal of this sport.

“It is pretty great,” Sam agreed, following Bucky’s gaze around the gym. “We love it at Howlies; wouldn’t train anywhere else. Lots of history here.”

“Sure,” Bucky replied. “So how about that meeting?”

“Yeah, right this way. Wouldn’t want to keep the boss waiting.”

Sam led them towards a door off to the side of the gym’s main floor where a placard read ‘N. Romanoff’. After a couple solid knocks, Sam opened the door a crack and peered in.

“Yoo-hoo, PR guy is here.”

There was a muttered response Bucky couldn’t quite hear, but it must have been affirmative since Sam pushed the door open wider. Sitting behind a large oak desk was a woman with fiery red hair, ironed dead-straight and barely brushing her slim shoulders. Despite her feminine good looks, Bucky was instantly intimidated by the power she exuded. It probably had something to do with the leather blazer she was wearing. Bucky hadn’t even known they made those but it was definitely working for her.

“You must be James Barnes,” she began, rounding her desk to greet him. “My name is Natasha Romanoff, I’m Steve’s manager.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Romanoff. Please, call me Bucky.”

She gave him an incredulous look.

“We’ll see.”

Sam snorted from behind Bucky, still standing in the doorway.

“Steve should be here any minute,” Natasha continued. “Please take a seat, James.”

He did as he was told while Sam reclined on the couch in the corner. Natasha returned to her seat behind the desk just as another man appeared in the doorway, rubbing a towel harshly over his head. 

“Tony stole my water pressure again. He’s doing it on purpose, there’s no way he just happens to finish his workout at the same time as me whenever we’re both here.”

“He’s probably trying to psych you out so he actually stands a chance next time you two spar,” Sam challenged, his lips curling upwards in a grin.

“Shut up,” Steve laughed, throwing the wet towel at his trainer’s face.

“Boys,” Natasha warned. “We have a guest.”

Steve finally noticed Bucky, who stood at the mention of his presence.

“James Barnes,” he stated, reaching out his hand to shake.

“But he goes by Bucky,” Sam helpfully added.

“And why’s that?” Steve questioned, taking the offered hand after a moment’s hesitation.

“My middle name’s Buchanan.”

“And Jim was too simple, right?”

Bucky quirked an eyebrow at the unwarranted sass.

“Something like that,” he replied, pulling out his most charming smile.

Steve was watching him with a calculating expression, but what exactly he was trying to figure out was a mystery to Bucky. He did know it was making him nervous though, the back of his neck tingling like he was being stared down by a predator. But he was determined to stand his ground; he wasn’t about to let this big jock intimidate him so soon after their first meeting. Even if his broad shoulders looked even stronger in person.

The two continued to silently assess each other before Natasha cleared her throat, signalling the beginning of their formal meeting. Because that was what they were here for, Bucky had to remind himself: Steve’s career. Once everyone was seated again she steepled her fingers under her chin and looked at Bucky with a resolute stare.

“So, how do we do this?”

Bucky huffed out a breath. No messing around then.

“Well, it depends more on what the client is willing to do in order to achieve the desired outcome.”

“The client,” came a pointed voice from the couch, “wants more recognition. Maybe we could start with the PR agent hired to do that addressing him like a person who’s in the room?”

The amount of sarcasm dripping from Steve’s tone almost dampened the air around them. This meeting was already going so well.

Bucky turned towards the fighter with a placating smile.

“Sorry, Mr. Rogers. But as I was saying, it’s mostly up to what you’re prepared to do.”

“Try me.”

Bucky kept his cool. Years of experience with testy clients had given him plenty of practice at maintaining his composure in the face of this kind of posturing. He wasn’t usually one to believe in stereotypes, but Bucky almost expected this kind of thing from someone involved in a sport that required violent, dominating behaviour. Bucky wasn’t always opposed to a bit of a power struggle, but professionally he preferred to have his position respected by clients. If first impressions were anything to go by, then Bucky would have to learn to deal with Steve’s testy attitude for the foreseeable future. 

A deep breath later and he was ready to brainstorm.

⁂

“How did this happen?” Bucky whined, gesticulating with his beer. 

Peggy just rolled her eyes as she sipped her Old Fashioned. The pair had finally found time for those consolatory drinks at their favourite bar and Bucky had spent the whole time complaining.

“Honestly,” Peggy sighed. “You don’t even know him yet. Just because he made a shoddy first impression, doesn’t mean he’s terrible all the time.”

“He was just such a macho dude, you know? ‘Oh, you’ve never even seen a fight? What use are you? Do you even know what I do?’,” Bucky mocked.

“That’s probably not what he said. And I’m sure his voice doesn’t sound like that, at least not with a face like his. He’s very good looking.”

“Peggy!”

“What? You think so too.”

“That was before I met him,” the man grumbled, grabbing his now empty bottle off the table and getting up to fetch a fresh one from the bar.

Peggy sighed heavily at her friend’s antics. The man was so attached to his job that anything that could possibly jeopardise it instantly put him on edge. She couldn’t really blame him; their workplace was great and he’d earned his position there, but this stress over his new client was verging on ridiculous at this point. 

“Do you know what I think?” she asked on his return.

“What’s that?”

“I think you need to give it a shot. This is something new for you, be happy about it. Keeping things fresh and interesting is important.”

Bucky paused with his new beer at his lips.

“Isn’t that advice for long-term relationships?”

“Yes, like the one you have with your career. That’s a passionate long-term relationship if I’ve ever seen one.”

“You’re nuts, Peggy, you know that?”

“Like you’re not?” she shot back, taking another long sip of her drink.

The conversation lulled comfortably, and then…

“I just don’t like him.”

⁂

“I don’t like him.”

Sam lowered the focus pads before Steve went for another jab. It had been a few days since the first, less-than-ideal meeting with Bucky and Steve’s opinion of the man hadn’t changed by much.

“That’s not fair, dude,” Sam said. “You didn’t exactly go easy on the poor guy.”

“He barely understood the rules of the sport, let alone how the industry works or what the audience is like. How is this going to work?”

Sighing at the same complaints he’d heard for days, Sam pulled the pads off his hands and ducked under the ropes of the ring. 

“Sam,” Steve called out to his retreating trainer.

“Come on, we’re doing some cardio.”

“Ugh.”

“I heard that.”

A few minutes later, now jogging at a steep incline, Steve continued to rant in between deep, steady breaths.

“But like…it just doesn’t make sense…Surely Nat’s spoken to you about it by now…She’d be able to see that…it won’t be a good fit.”

Sam took advantage of the following silence, increasing the speed on the treadmill for good measure.

“At least give him a chance, Steve. You don’t know that he’ll suck.”

Steve shot him his best attempt at an unimpressed scowl while panting and covered in sweat.

“If he messes up, we can dump him then,” Sam continued. “Until he does, shut your mouth and concentrate on the fight.”

He had a point, Steve acquiesced, now running at a quick pace. It was his first match as an official ACT fighter. He might just be facing another one of this season’s new intakes but it was still his debut fight. And with his eyes set on becoming the iron-weight champion, he better start off on a high. 

“Fine,” he huffed, and continued running.


	3. He Watches

“This is Barnes,” Bucky greeted, holding the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he sorted through the files on his desk.

“Hello James, it’s Natasha Romanoff.”

“Hi,” he responded apprehensively. “Is something wrong?”

“I know our last meeting didn’t exactly run smoothly so I was wondering if you’d be interested in a bit of a field trip.”

“Um…” Bucky hesitated, unsure of the protocol for maintaining professionalism in whatever situation this was shaping into.

“I’d like to invite you to Steve’s premiere fight next week.”

“Oh,” he said. “Sure, I can do that.”

“Great. I’ll send you the details and leave your name at the door.”

“Thank you, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Not a problem, James. I hope it’ll help.”

She hung up before he could find a response that wasn’t ‘I doubt it’. 

⁂

The stadium was packed with excited viewers, taking advantage of the intermission between fights to grab a drink and stretch their legs. Bucky edged around the clusters of people on his way towards the backstage entrance he’d been directed to. Apparently, Natasha intended for him to be a part of Steve’s entourage tonight, if the VIP pass hanging around his neck was anything to go by.

“Fantastic,” he muttered sarcastically. Spending more time up close and personal with Steve seemed like a great idea.

He eventually spotted Natasha’s bright hair and made his way over. She offered an amicable smile when she saw him approaching.

“Good evening, James. I was wondering when you’d get here.”

“Sorry. I had some trouble getting a cab.”

“Never mind, he hasn’t been out yet. This way.”

He could hear the faint sounds of fists landing punches from further along the dim hallway they were headed down. They walked into the room where Steve was dressed in a hoodie and sweats, hopping around on the spot as he threw out combinations against the pads Sam was holding up. His brow was furrowed and his breathing heavy; he looked focused and dangerous. Bucky figured that was probably a good thing considering what he was about to walk out to. 

“It’s time,” came a passing voice, prompting Steve’s team to move in a well-practiced routine.

Natasha took Bucky by the arm and guided him off to the side as Sam murmured encouragingly to the fighter. Steve shook out his shoulders one more time then stalked down the hallway towards the Cube.

“Have you done any more ACT research since the meeting?” Natasha asked as they trailed behind the small group.

“Not much,” Bucky admitted. “I’ve tried, but I had to organise a few things for other clients this week, and honestly it doesn’t really hold my attention. I’m pretty sure I’ve got the basics down, though.”

“I’ll guide you through it,” she reassured him. “Here, I want to introduce you to someone.”

She reached out and stopped a stocky blond man making his way towards the Cube entrance.

“Clint, this is James. James, Clint is one of the ACT announcers and a regular at Howlies.”

“You mean the best ACT announcer and Howlies’ MVP,” the man said with a wink at Natasha.

“Nice to meet you. You can call me Bucky.”

“Bucky. I love it,” he said with a friendly smile and firm handshake. “Hopefully I’ll see you at the afterparty.”

“Maybe,” Natasha quipped back. “Now go do your job.”

“I shall,” Clint nodded. “Enjoy the fight.”

As they finally took their seats near the front row, the speakers surrounding the audience began to blast the ACT’s introductory theme at a near-deafening decibel. 

“Here we go again!” Clint’s voice shouted over the top of the music. “Let’s get into fight number twooooo!”

The crowd roared, the lights dimmed and an upbeat song bounced around the stadium.

“From the proud country of Sokovia, he’s travelled all this way to join the ACT family. Weighing in at 205 pounds and standing at five foot ten, it’s Pietro Maximoff.”

Bucky watched the man approach from the opposite side of the Cube. His face was pale and stubbled, like he hadn’t slept well last night, but the way he was feigning dodges down the walkway made him look fit and strong. The thin t-shirt he was wearing was tight enough to display his well-defined muscles, his bicep flexing as he carded a hand through his silver hair. Information from his profile as a fighter was projected on the Cube’s screens, outlining his physical stats, fighting styles, and an even 0:0 for past wins and losses.

“How do they do that?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask.

“The screens?” Natasha clarified. “It’s ACT tech, one of the newer additions. Stark did something to the projectors and screens so the audience can read it but it doesn’t appear on the other side, kind of like a one-way mirror. Don’t ask me how, just be impressed by it.”

“I am,” he admitted before Clint continued his introductions.

“And another fresh face for the ACT, this time from just across the bridge in Brooklyn. An impressive six feet and two inches with 220 pounds of All-American muscle, Steve Rogers.”

Steve had replaced his hoodie with a plain white t-shirt adorned with a small Howlies Gym logo. He held his chin high as he walked towards the Cube, flexing his wrapped hands at his sides to loosen the tape some. Pietro had already stripped down to his blue skin-tight shorts and specialty shoes. Bucky had read that the strange boots were designed to allow for improved grip without impeding on any attempts to pivot. They also reduced the chance of ankle and foot injuries while somehow not increasing the damage dealt by a kick any more than a barefoot would. The more Bucky tried to learn about ACT, the more he wanted to know who was behind all these technological feats. 

Steve had removed his own clothing now, revealing a looser pair of shorts in a simple grey with elasticated strips running up each side, probably to allow for more movement. Sam double-checked his black boots, giving an affirmative nod as he straightened back up and clasped Steve’s shoulders firmly. With a few final words of advice, he was handed a mouthguard and sent into the Cube.

“And overseeing this match is the charming, the stern, the downright intimidating Maria Hill.”

The crowd cheered as a tall woman in the navy blue uniform of ACT referees stepped into the centre of the Cube and stood at a loose Parade Rest. Each fighter approached from their corners, shaking hands as Hill tapped against the small microphone subtly hooked around her ear.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I run a tight ship so keep it clean, keep it tidy. You’re fighting until submission; surrender or pass out, either works for me. Until then, it’s three rounds of combat and the judges will be scoring in case they need to call a winner. Are you both ready?”

Each man nodded their head in affirmation. Once Hill had inspected their hands and feet for illegal alterations, she stepped back and raised her right arm.

“Begin,” she said, as she quickly lowered it and the men instantly sprang forward.

Bucky thought he was prepared for the fight but it turned out he was severely mistaken. Steve had come at Pietro low and hard, tackling him into the screen behind him before turning to throw him to the floor. The man lashed out as Steve tried to grab a hold of him, somehow managing to push himself backwards across the floor and out of harm’s way. It didn’t last long though, as Pietro barely managed to get to his feet before Steve was landing a solid punch to his stomach. He’d jumped back enough to lessen the blow but it still looked bad to Bucky’s inexperienced eyes. As Steve lunged forward to try and continue his barrage of hits, Pietro dodged a few then sidestepped around Steve and bolted behind. He leapt up to grab hold of one of the beams above them and used it to gain a height advantage, hitching a leg over Steve’s shoulder and attempting to force him into a lock.

“Don’t look so scared, Bambi,” Natasha said from beside him.

“It’s just…they’re really going for it.”

“That’s kind of the point of the sport.”

“But still,” Bucky insisted, just as Steve managed to dislodge Pietro’s grip on the beam with a sharp elbow to the face and sent him tumbling to the floor in a rough heap.

Bucky looked on in horrified fascination as the floor was stained red from the blood dripping from Pietro’s nose. Steve hadn’t wasted any time getting on top of him to try and land a few more heavy hits.

“Is it even fair? To put Steve in the Cube with someone shorter and lighter than him? Don’t they have weight classes?”

“Of course they do,” Natasha scoffed, as if she was personally offended by the insinuation. “This is a professional sport with strict rules and regulations, including weight classes.”

“Well, they don’t seem to be quite as strict as other sports.”

“Because you’re such an expert. The Avengers Combat Tournament only accepts fighters of the highest calibre; it’s a gruelling selection process that is reflected in the length of the contracts and quality of the fights,” she explained. “There are five weight classes: widow-weight, arrow-weight, strike-weight, iron-weight, and hulk-weight. Our man is an iron-weight which means he can weigh anywhere from 181 to 230 pounds. Once he heard the ACT scouts were showing interest in him, Steve packed on even more muscle to put him closer to the top end of the scale for iron-weights. That’s a smart move. Anyone in any of the weight classes can do the same; these people are at the peak of physical health and are free to change classes as they choose. If that means staying lean so you can remain a big fish in a lighter pond then do it; if you want to challenge yourself and pack on the weight to face-off against some bigger fighters you can do that too. This isn’t your average MMA match, James. These people are the best of the best.”

And watching Steve pin Pietro, face-first against one of the screens in an armlock, blocking his quick kicks and increasing the pressure until the other fighter was forced to tap out before his shoulder was dislocated, Bucky couldn’t help but agree. It was bloody and brutal but they were clearly skilled. This sport wasn’t for amateurs. It was for the best fighters in the world.

⁂

Rather than following Steve and his team backstage after the fight, Natasha led Bucky outside and into a waiting car to take them further into Manhattan for the afterparty.

“Where is it?” Bucky asked once they were settled into the backseat, looking out the tinted window to try and gauge their location.

“Avengers Tower,” Natasha replied. “It’s where most of the big functions are held. Tonight included a double debut and a title match afterwards; that calls for a proper celebration.”

Bucky didn’t know what exactly to expect, but the intimidatingly tall skyscraper emblazoned with a giant  _ ‘A’  _ that lit up the block wasn’t it. Apparently, ACT was run by a very opulent individual with money to spare. When Bucky said as much, Natasha responded with a knowing smirk and quick nod.

“The man himself isn’t here tonight, I’m afraid,” she explained, leading the way inside. “But his CEO will be. Pepper is great.”

The pair walked through the lavish foyer towards a set of elevators. The ride up was smooth and swift considering they were apparently headed to the penthouse. The mirrored doors parted to reveal a large open space consisting of a carpeted seating area, a well-lit bar, and a large outdoor terrace suspended above the New York skyline.

“Come on,” Natasha said from beside him, looping her arm around his elbow. “I’ll introduce you to some of the crew.”

About an hour into the endless stream of handshakes and small-talk with a mix of trainers, fighters and investors, an excited cheer began near the entrance. Bucky turned to see Steve and Sam walk in, grins plastered across their faces as they were handed drinks and congratulated on the night’s win. Steve looked entirely different from how he was at the fight; his taut jaw and clenched fists had been traded in for a blushing smile and loose-grip on a beer bottle. He’d also changed his outfit, sporting simple trousers and a dark blue button-up that looked like it was struggling to hold itself together. He really did have quite an impressive chest.

“James?”

“Huh?”

Bucky tuned back into the conversation he’d been having, Natasha raising an inquisitive eyebrow at his inattention.

“Another drink?” she asked, gesturing to the waiter who was holding out a tray in Bucky’s direction.

“Oh. Sure,” he responded, taking another flute of champagne with an embarrassed smile.

“We should go say ‘hi’ to the boys before you start catching flies,” she added with a smirk. “What with your mouth hanging open like that.”

Bucky could feel his face heating up as he snapped his jaw shut, but chose to ignore Natasha’s dig in favour of following behind her silently. By the time they reached them, Steve and Sam were already talking to Pepper, the red-headed CEO of Stark Industries that Natasha had introduced him to earlier. She was an impressive woman; tall and graceful, but certainly not someone to mess with and clearly comfortable being in charge. Bucky had instantly liked her; he had a tendency to surround himself with strong, level-headed women who could balance out his more dramatic tendencies. 

“Natasha,” Sam greeted. “What’s the verdict?”

“He still takes too long to recover from chokeholds,” she responded curtly.

“It’s never a simple ‘well done’ with you, is it?” the trainer laughed, clinking the neck of his beer against Natasha’s raised tumbler.

“Only if it’s deserved.”

“Bucks, how you doing?” Sam asked, turning towards him.

“Fine,” he responded. “I don’t know what I was expecting tonight but I thought the fight was incredible. Definitely deserving of a ‘well done’.”

“Thank you!” Sam exclaimed with a pointed look at Natasha. “Don’t let the big guy hear you, though. He’s already had enough compliments on his fight to last a lifetime. Don’t want to blow up that ego too much.”

“What are you saying about me now?” came a deep voice from beside them. 

Steve’s tone had been laced with good-natured teasing, but his pleasant smile fell when his eyes locked on Bucky. 

“Hello,” he said in a stilted tone. 

“Hi,” Bucky replied, trying to ignore Steve’s sudden change in demeanour. “I was just telling Sam about how surprised I was by the fight.”

“Why were you surprised?” Steve asked. His brows were furrowed, as if preparing to defend his sport from any naysayers who would dare confront him. The dark expression was intimidating enough to have Bucky second-guessing his every word.

“I just meant that it was a lot more intense than anything I’ve seen before.”

“Well, from what I can tell there isn’t much for you to compare it to.”

“I guess not. It’s still quite violent though.”

“It’s a combat tournament; what else were you expecting?”

“If I’m being honest, not much.”

“Not much,” Steve repeated.

Bucky winced; that was not what he meant.

“As in I didn’t know what to expec—”

“You know, I think I got it,” Steve interrupted.

Bucky swallowed thickly, frozen under Steve’s heavy gaze while he searched for a way to backtrack. But Steve didn’t give him a chance to explain himself, shaking his head and walking away without another word.

“Right,” Bucky sighed. “I think I’m gonna go before I shove my foot any further in my mouth.”

Sam looked as though he was about to argue but couldn’t get a word in before Bucky continued.

“I have work to do anyway. Tonight’s given me a lot to think about.”

Natasha nodded, placing a hand on his back as she murmured about seeing him out.

“I promise he isn’t always like this,” she said while they waited for the elevator.

“No,” Bucky agreed. “Just around me.”


	4. They Workout

“Something occurred to me last night,” Bucky began, settling into his seat at their second official meeting.

“Was it realising you’d been living under a rock?” Steve shot back, flicking through some fitness magazine while reclined on the couch in Natasha’s office. 

“Not quite,” Bucky responded offhandedly. “It was the fact that ACT is an international sport.”

The other three faces in the room looked at him expectantly before Sam broke the silence.

“Hate to break it to you, Buckster, but that ain’t news.”

“Well it was to me and it gave me an idea.”

“Continue,” Natasha prompted, listening attentively.

“I was looking at the list of different countries involved and it’s so varied that there isn’t even really a dominant nationality making up the majority of fighters. After a bit of a search through the Americans I realised that while there are definitely some marketing gimmicks, none of them are promoting themselves as a face for the USA on the world stage of ACT. Going over the few names that you sent me of Steve’s upcoming fights, only one is also American which hedges the U.S. directly against a few different countries, kind of like the Olympics, yeah?”

“So what? You want me to get some star-spangled shorts and walk out to the national anthem?” Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”

“I like it,” Sam disagreed. “It’s perfect. Steve’s a vet too. They’ll eat that shit right up.”

“You’re a veteran?” Bucky asked. “That wasn’t in your profile.”

Steve was concentrating solely on the magazine in his lap, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

“I don’t like to publicise it,” he said. “It turns out war doesn’t actually solve anything. I’d rather focus on my future than the past.”

“If we end up going with this idea it would probably benefit you,” Bucky reasoned, not looking away from the man. “The guy who fought for his country now going for the title of ACT champion on our behalf. The media fodder practically writes itself.”

Steve finally looked up before sharply diverting his gaze to Natasha.

“What do you think?”

She sat in silence, contemplating the proposal. It didn’t necessarily have to be as cheesy as Steve envisioned. It could be as subtle as sharing Steve’s past and having him make a few slightly patriotic statements. People would draw their own conclusions and they could play off the fan’s enthusiasm. 

“It could work,” she eventually acceded. “It’s the kind of thing that could pick up enough traction to get your name out there and maintain that level of publicity if James navigates it properly.”

“Exactly,” Bucky said with a grin, nodding along enthusiastically.

“I still think it could be stupid,” Steve muttered. “There’s no going back once we make me into a dancing monkey. That kind of crap will follow me into retirement.”

“Oh, definitely,” Bucky agreed. “Which is why you hired me to help you.”

“Right,” Steve said, clearly unimpressed by the idea. “I’m heading to the ring. Sam?”

The fighter stood up and left the office without another word. Sam clicked his tongue at the empty doorway, turning to Bucky as he stood to follow.

“He’ll come around eventually, he’s just a tough nut to crack.”

Once they were left alone, Natasha rose from her seat and walked around the desk.

“Come with me.”

They stopped at the front desk where Sharon was typing away, pausing to greet them both.

“Sharon, can you give me a membership registration, please,” Natasha asked, ignoring Bucky’s confused expression. Sharon handed her a clipboard which she passed directly to Bucky. He stood there, dumbfounded, as he scanned over the form.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“You,” she answered. “You’re going to join the gym and, whenever you have the time, come and try to get into Steve’s good books. He practically lives here so the chances are he’ll be in. Sam will be a good buffer at first but one-on-one time would probably make the most headway with him.”

“But I’m really not a gym kind of guy,” Bucky insisted, trying to hand back the clipboard.

“So you either become one or pretend. You’re not here to get fit, you’re here to get Steve to warm up to you. We both know it would make your life easier and Steve doesn’t always know how to help himself. This is a win-win as far as I’m concerned.”

Sighing heavily, Bucky looked back down at the sign-up form before turning towards Sharon.

“Do you have a pen?”

⁂

Steve stepped away from the punching bag as something on the other side of the gym stole his attention, his brows furrowed in confusion. Sam looked up from where he was holding the heavy bag in place to see Bucky walking across the floor, dressed in gym shorts and a t-shirt with a backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Hey, hey, look at this. Bucknasty is getting his gym on!” Sam shouted across the room, grinning at Bucky’s blushing face.

Lifting his hand in a passing wave, Bucky walked into the locker room to put away his bag.

“Steve’s guy, how you doing?”

A broad man sporting a carefully groomed goatee and no shirt came walking into the room from the direction of the showers, towel slung low on his hips.

“Hi. Bucky,” he introduced himself, shaking the man’s hand.

“Tony Stark,” he replied. “Glad I finally caught you. Steve has been whining about you for weeks.”

“Oh. Great.”

“It’s not like that,” Tony said, opening his own locker and taking out some clothes. “He’s just funny about new people. He’s a very private person and your job is literally to make him share things with the public. You can see why he’s having trouble warming up to you.”

Bucky hadn’t thought of it like that but he saw Tony’s point. Unfortunately, it was just part of becoming a public figure and if Steve wanted to increase his exposure he would need to open up, at least a little. 

Something suddenly occurred to Bucky.

“Tony Stark? Aren’t you fighting Steve in a few weeks?”

“Yes, I am. How sweet of you to remember my name,” he replied, batting his eyelashes exaggeratedly.

Bucky laughed, giving himself one last lookover in the mirror before turning to the door.

“Any advice on how to approach Steve?” he asked Tony before he left.

“Slowly and carefully, like a stray dog. He might snap at you a few times but what he really wants is a tummy rub.”

“Right,” Bucky chuckled. “See you around, Tony.”

“I hope so,” came the reply, before Bucky found himself back out on the main floor, unsure where to start. Luckily, he wasn’t standing there long before Sam shouted out to him again.

“Get over here, Buck!”

Bucky walked towards the station Sam was standing in, Steve busy on the stair climber behind him.

“What’s your plan?”

“For what?”

“Your workout? Do you have a circuit in your head or a weight goal or something?”

“Um…no. I was just gonna give a few things a go,” Bucky admits. “I’m not usually the gym type but I thought this was a good opportunity to start since I’m going to be coming here anyway.”

“That’s cool, man. Your body will love you for it.”

“Sam,” Steve interrupted, his voice stern. “I’m done. Weights?”

“Yeah, dude,” Sam replied, looking back at Bucky as Steve walked away from them. “Good luck with the workout. And good idea with this; if you hang around him long enough he’s sure to get used to you.”

Bucky smirked at Sam’s retreating back, locking eyes with Steve briefly on the other side of the gym before the man looked towards his trainer. Hopefully, everyone was right and all it would take for Steve to let go of his hostility was to spend more time around him. Small steps, Bucky reminded himself. Simply being here was today’s success. Maybe by next week he’d be able to use a nearby machine without Steve making a hasty retreat to the opposite end of the gym.  _ Fingers crossed _ , he thought, as he hopped on a treadmill.

⁂

“I can’t believe you,” Steve growled on the other side of the room, lifting the barbell and staring up at Sam as he spotted him.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“So he just randomly decided to start working out here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Sam insisted. “Who’s working out here? Tony? His membership outdates both of ours.”

“Shut up, Sam. You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

“Concentrate on your lifting. And I didn’t make Bucky do anything but I’m glad he’s here. You’re going to have to get over it eventually; he’s doing your PR whether you like it or not.”

“If I’m the client don’t I get the final say on who represents me?”

“Not if Natasha likes him.”

He paused, setting the barbell back on the stand.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted. “But I still don’t like this Team USA idea of his.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam laughed. “It’s perfect for you.”

“I’m not marching around spouting crap about grandma’s homemade apple pie and fireworks on the 4 th of July.”

“Steve,” Sam said, looking at him with a deadpan expression. “Your birthday is literally July 4 th and apple pie is your favourite dessert, you always order it if it’s an option on the menu.”

“Okay, you know what, I’m sure nearly everyone likes apple pie and it’s just a sad coincidence since I had no control over the day I was born,” Steve said in a rush, pointing an accusatory finger at Sam before picking up a set of dumbbells. 

“ _ Okay _ ,” Sam said in a mocking voice, holding out his hands for Steve to reach the same height with each front raise.

“Shut up.”

“You keep saying that but it only means I’m winning the argument.”

“It’s not a competition, Sam.”

“Not to you,” he said with a shrug, “Now pick up the big-boy weights and give me some deadlifts.” 

⁂

“To be fair, I’d hate that gimmick too.”

Bucky scowled down at Peggy from where he was perched on the edge of her desk, picking his way through a Greek salad.

“It isn’t a gimmick,” he mumbled around a mouthful of tomato and feta. 

“It is so a gimmick.”

“Fine, it’s a gimmick. But that’s what he wants—attention. It’s too perfect not to go with.”

“The all-American patriot of ACT? Honestly, Bucky, no wonder he can’t stand you.”

She didn’t even bother looking up from her work as she stole an olive out of Bucky’s container while he was busy gaping at her in shock.

“Um, rude,” he finally said.

“True, though.”

Bucky refused to admit that, regardless of how much he’d complained about Steve since they’d met.

“Not all of us can be charming English roses that everyone instantly adores.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Peggy agreed with a smirk. “But if you ask me, I think you’re as bad as each other.”

“Not this again,” he grumbled, making to stand up and leave. He could finish his lunch in his own office where there was no one to treat him this way.

“I’m telling you, as soon as someone rubs you up the wrong way you tend to write them off completely.”

“Pegs, believe me, I tried. He just doesn’t like me.”

“He doesn’t know you, Bucky. And instead of proving him wrong, you’re letting him assume you want nothing more than to make a mockery of his career.”

Bucky let out a long sigh. He hated when Peggy was right.

“How are you so reasonable all the time?”

“Just a gift, I imagine,” she shrugged, reaching for another of Bucky’s olives. “I really am curious about how you two act around each other.”

“I bet.”

“I just have a few theories, is all.”

“Like?”

“Now why would I tell you? That could completely change the end results.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“As are you, dear.”

Well, there was no denying that.


	5. He Fights

The next time Steve was scheduled to fight, Natasha set aside two passes for Bucky and a guest. Naturally, he invited Peggy who was dying to meet the infamous Steve and finally judge the fighter’s bratty disposition for herself. He arrived early this time, before even the first fight of the night, much to Natasha’s approval. The two women got along like old friends the instant they were introduced, walking side by side as they headed backstage, laughing about the ongoing situation between Bucky and Steve. 

“Boys,” Natasha sighed, shaking her head.

“Boys,” Peggy agreed, smiling back at Bucky who was too far away to hear them chuckling at his expense, completely oblivious but pleased they were getting along.

Once they got backstage, Natasha took over introducing Peggy to everyone in the team before interrupting Sam and Steve in their pre-fight warm-ups. 

“This is Peggy. She works with James and is an absolute joy.”

“Pleasure to meet you both.”

Bucky barely smothered an amused snort at the instant change in demeanour from Sam. He clasped Peggy’s hand gently, waxing poetic about how charmed he was to meet such an elegant woman after so much time spent around the neanderthals he works with. Peggy pursed her lips to withhold the laugh Sam’s fruitless flirting inspired, instead thanking the man politely and turning towards Steve.

“Hello, I’m Steve,” he introduced himself, shaking her hand once before clasping them behind his back like a well-behaved schoolboy.

“Yes, I can see that. Steve the ACT fighter; I’ve heard plenty about you.”

“I hate to wonder what exactly,” Steve replied, shooting a quick glance over her shoulder towards Bucky.

“I make a point to never believe unfounded gossip. I prefer to make my own opinions.”

“Something we can agree on.”

Watching the two interact, Bucky couldn’t wait to hear what Peggy’s impression of the man would be. No doubt he’d treat her much nicer than he did Bucky, even if it was just in an attempt to put the moves on his friend. Peggy was used to the attention she received from men, looking the way that she did, but it meant she also had a lot of practice in letting them down. Steve would be no different, chiselled jaw or no.

“So how are the workouts going?” Natasha asked, sidling up beside Bucky as Peggy and Steve continued to talk.

“I’ve been a few times. Now I can be at the station next to his without him moving away like he’s trying to avoid the plague.”

“Good, good,” she nodded, smiling as Sam joined them. “And have you been helping the cause?”

“What? Operation Gym Buddies? I make him do more reps per machine so that he can’t move on when Bucky’s in his peripheral but the guy’s fit so it doesn’t hold him back long.”

Natasha hummed contemplatively, telling them to leave it with her and she’d think of something. Bucky believed she would; Sam looked scared at the prospect.

Not long after it was time for the night’s first fight. Steve’s match was second again, so he remained backstage with his team while Bucky and Peggy took their seats in the stadium. Neither was particularly interested in watching but took the opportunity to regroup.

“I have no idea what you were talking about? That man is perfectly polite.”

“Yeah, to you. I don’t know why you wore the red dress; you know no one can resist that look on you,” Bucky insisted.

“Oh hush up. He didn’t even make a real try of it,” she shrugged. “We had a delightful little conversation about the merits of honesty and how much we both loathe those stupid tabloid magazines.”

“Huh. That’s odd,” Bucky mused. “Big guy like that, I’d think he’d be the exact kind to hit on a woman like you.”

“Well, he didn’t. He was a complete gentleman.”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t any less of a headache as a client.”

“Yes, well.  _ C’est la vie _ . It’s not like I got to see you both interact, I’m sure that would have made a difference.”

Bucky hummed in agreement, turning towards the fight that was just starting.

“What the fu—”

⁂

Natasha trailed behind Steve and his crew as they headed towards the start of the walkway where they would wait to be announced. She skirted around them, patting Steve’s arm encouragingly as she passed before finding her seat beside Bucky.

“How was the first match?” she asked.

“They were women!” Bucky responded, his eyebrows raised.

Peggy scoffed from beside him, leaning back in her chair. Natasha smirked at her response; they were clearly on the same page.

“Women can train to fight too, James. There’s nothing stopping them from joining the ACT.”

“I know that,” he insisted, “I just didn’t know that ACT was a mixed sport. It was unexpected, that’s all.”

“Oh James,” Natasha cooed, “You have no idea. How did you miss that in all your research?”

Before he had a chance to admit he still hadn’t really done that much background research, Clint’s voice echoed throughout the stadium.

“Are you ready for the second fight tonight?” he shouted through the speakers, much to the crowd’s excitement.

“In his second match with the ACT following his last victory right here in New York, weighing 220 pounds and measuring in at six foot two, it’s Steve Rogers.”

Same as last time, Steve walked out with his chin raised, shoulders back, and a stern expression. He was constantly going on about how he needed to work up to his fighting persona before a match and every time he walked out like that Natasha could recognise the change. ‘Steve, the fighter’ was not the same as ‘Steve, the man’, that much was clear.

“And taking some time out of his busy schedule to be here, it’s the man who eats, breathes, and lives this sport. He’s still 6’1” but has recently beefed up to a whopping 212 pounds, it’s Tony Stark!”

The roar from the crowd felt endless as people screamed and clapped enthusiastically.

“Why is he so popular?” Bucky asked. “His stats aren’t anything special.”

Natasha shot him a stunned look, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Because he’s Tony Stark.”

“Sure, I’ve spoken to the guy a couple times at the gym. That doesn’t explain why they’re yelling like that. He’s not particularly high ranked and doesn’t seem to fight very often.”

“James, you know even less than I thought,” she sighed. “Tony Stark is the same Stark that designs all of ACT’s tech. His father invented the sport.”

She watched as Bucky’s eyes widened before he turned to stare at the man, now stepping up into the Cube where Steve and the ref were waiting.

“And overseeing the fight, please welcome back the fanciest man to ever enter the Cube, Edwin Jarvis.”

A very proper looking gentleman stepped forward and beckoned for the two fighters to approach each other. Tony pressed his palms together in front of his chest and bowed his head before taking Steve’s outstretched hand for a quick shake.

“I expect a clean fight, gentlemen,” the referee stated in a strong British accent. “There will be three rounds in which one of you may either tap out or be rendered unconscious. If needs be, the judges will score your fights and a winner will be announced accordingly. Are you ready to begin?”

The men nodded, their hands and feet were checked, and the fight began. Unlike his last match, Steve didn’t launch himself at Tony as soon as Jarvis’s hand fell. Instead, the two circled each other with their arms slightly raised, waiting out the other. Eventually, Tony pivoted and struck out, connecting with Steve’s chin followed by a few swift punches to his sides. Steve parried the attack by sidestepping and blocking with his arm, retreating a few steps to begin circling again. The next time they came together it was Steve ducking into a spinning low sweep at Tony’s legs and quickly closing in to mount the man while he was down.

“Well, isn’t that a touch homoerotic,” Peggy drawled from her seat, watching the fight avidly.

“It’s honestly my favourite part of the matches,” Natasha admitted with a wry grin.

“I think I’m gonna have to agree,” Bucky added, staring at the men as they continued to trade blows close at hand before the Cube’s four screens flashed blue and the first round was over. The fighters untangled and went back to their corners. Sam was waiting at the entrance with a bottle of water, grabbing Steve’s shoulder as he squatted down to be at eye level with his trainer, taking sips as he listened to the advice he was given. A few moments later the Cube flashed blue again and the fighters returned to their starting positions. The second round was much more athletic, the men lashing out with harder strikes and utilising the beams of the roof to add height and momentum to their kicks, their arms bulging impressively as they hefted themselves into the air. The round ended with Tony getting out of a headlock by stepping up one of the side walls to flip over Steve’s head and reverse the hold, starting to choke him just as the Cube was illuminated again. 

“He’s not going to like that,” Natasha muttered, eyeing the angry look on Steve’s face. 

He didn’t even meet Sam in the corner, instead pacing back and forth along his side of the Cube like a caged animal. His frustration with himself came out in his fighting once the final round began. He lunged at Tony as soon as he could, instantly putting him on his back and twisting him into a chokehold. Within seconds the Cube lit up, red this time, signalling Tony had passed out. Steve leapt up instantly, allowing Jarvis to check on Tony before Steve was declared the winner. He stormed out of the Cube as soon as he could, stalking his way backstage.

“We better go see him,” Natasha sighed, watching Sam hurry after their friend.

“Why is he so upset? He won,” Bucky said, following behind her with Peggy at his side.

“Because he took too long to do it. He hates going all three rounds, no matter the end result.”

When they finally reached Steve he was tearing the tape off his hands like it was burning his skin.

“He nearly had me at the end of round two,” he was shouting at Sam. “I nearly lost my second fight in the ACT to Tony fucking Stark because my footwork wasn’t up to scratch—I couldn’t move away from the wall fast enough.”

“Steve, you’re being too harsh on yourself, dude,” Sam tried, “Tony’s a good fighter, you know that. You’ve trained with the guy for years.”

“Not recently. Not since he put on all that extra muscle.”

“I don’t know, he was looking a little chubby around the midsection.”

“Don’t joke, Sam, this is serious! We didn’t account for it and that gave him an advantage.”

“You won, Steve!”

“Barely,” he huffed, “I’m a fucking amateur compared to these guys.”

“I don’t know, looked pretty impressive to me,” Bucky said with a shrug from where he was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets and eyes on his shoes as he waited out Steve’s tantrum.

Peggy, who was standing beside him, took one look at Steve and moved to stand by Natasha instead. She’d always been smarter than Bucky and his big mouth.

“No,” Steve growled, stalking Bucky’s way. “You don’t get a say in this.”

Bucky looked up and froze at the sight before him. Steve didn’t stop until he was towering over the man, jabbing a harsh finger at his chest.

“You didn’t even know this sport existed a few weeks ago. You don’t get to stand back here and talk about what makes a good fighter. You have  _ no  _ idea.”

Steve spun on his heel and headed towards the showers. Bucky, who could never leave well enough alone, glared at his retreating back and decided he wasn’t finished.

“Maybe you just need to loosen up a little, Steve. Life isn’t all about ACT.”

“IT IS!” he roared, shocking everyone in the room at the volume of his voice. “It is  _ all  _ about ACT for me!”

“Hey!” Sam interrupted, stepping forward. “Everyone needs to take a deep breath and calm the fuck down. Steve, go take a shower and don’t come out until you’re ready to act like an adult and let Sharon patch you up. You’re coming out with us for a celebratory dinner after that win—I repeat:  _ win _ —and you will have a drink and relax. Got it?”

There was a pause, then Steve nodded and left the room. Everyone seemed to exhale simultaneously and quickly averted their attention.

“I’m sorry about him,” Sam began, but Bucky shook his head before he could get any further.

“He’s right, I’m no expert on ACT,” he admitted.

“But still.”

“Nah, he’s upset. Everyone gets riled up when they’re upset. Plus I don’t always know when to shut up.”

“You should come out with us,” Natasha insisted. “He’ll feel worse if you’re not there and he knows it’s his fault. And you too, Pegs.”

“We’d love to,” the woman answered for the both of them, shooting Bucky a warning glance before he could attempt to refuse the invitation.

“We’d love to,” he repeated dutifully.

⁂

Bucky was surprised when Tony arrived at the diner, standing before their table with his arms spread wide and an expectant look on his face. Steve huffed a sigh and stood up, walking into the man’s embrace where the pair hugged long enough for Tony to mutter something in Steve’s ear that softened his expression by the time they stepped back. Tony smiled warmly at Steve as he returned to his seat before greeting everyone else.

“Nice to see you again, Bucky,” Tony added. “And who is this stunning creature beside you?”

“This is my friend, Peggy. We work together.”

Tony shook her hand before he turned to grasp onto the shoulder of the man who had accompanied him into the diner.

“This is Rhodey, my trainer and BFF,” Tony explained. “I will be happy to lend him to you if you ever want some actual direction at Howlies. I know Sam’s time is usually monopolised by Cap over there.”

“Cap?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, the Captain. Steve. Didn’t he tell you he was in the military?”

“I knew he was a vet. Were you a Captain?” 

Bucky turned his attention to the man as he asked, watching Steve fidget with the basket of fries in front of him. Eventually, he nodded.

“Oh Stevie, you’re too humble for your own good,” Tony sighed.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve agreed. “Anyone need another drink?”

By the time they’d all finished eating and were congregating on the footpath outside, everyone was in better spirits. Tony had no problem with his loss since he treated ACT as more of a hobby than a career; that title was saved for his work as the sport’s Chief Technical Officer. Bucky spent a good portion of dinner grilling him on his current projects. But it was Natasha who answered the question he was too nervous to ask.

“There’s an unspoken rule in the ACT that no one treats Tony any differently just because of who he is. Sure, Howard invented the sport and Tony is fine-tuning the tech but everyone’s equal once they step inside the Cube.”

Now, they were saying their goodbyes before it got too late so both the fighters could have a good night’s rest. Bucky was just giving in to Sam insisting he train with him tomorrow since Steve would be busy recovering when he felt Peggy stiffen at his side. Before he could ask her what was wrong a familiar drawl called out from further down the street.

“Bucky Barnes!”

The entire group turned in the direction of the approaching man.

“Oh, shit,” Bucky breathed, shaking off Peggy’s grip on his sleeve and pushing ahead to try and stop Brock from getting any closer.

“Brock, please don’t start. We’re leaving.”

“How you been, princess? Miss me?” the man asked, the pungent smell of alcohol and cigarettes on his breath hitting Bucky like a slap. He tried to lightly push Brock away from the group but the larger man only stumbled back one step before he found his feet again.

“No, I guess not,” Brock continued. “You’re probably too busy whoring around, trying to forget about me, huh. No easy thing to do, I know.”

Bucky flinched back as the man reached out and placed a hand against his chest, dragging his fingers down his torso suggestively. He swallowed hard to clear his throat before speaking again.

“Brock, I’m asking you not to make a scene in front of my friends. We’re going now; please, just don’t.”

“How many of them have had you, huh? You fucked some of them? All of them? God, you were such a slut when we were together, I bet you’re still a slut now.”

“You were the one who cheated on me, you jealous prick,” Bucky growled, instantly regretting rising to the bait.

“Only because you would throw yourself at every dick you could.”

“You’re fucking delusional.”

“I know what I saw.”

“You know what you wanted to see,” Bucky disagreed, beginning to turn away. “But it doesn’t matter now so just fucking leave it.”

“Don’t you fucking walk away when I’m—”

“Back up.”

Bucky looked up to see Steve, who had broken away from the group to step in between the quarrelling pair; he hadn’t noticed Brock following after him, arm outstretched to try and grab ahold of Bucky’s jacket. Brock straightened up at Steve’s interference, jutting his chin out and baring his teeth. He wasn’t quite as tall or muscular as Steve but Bucky knew how nasty he got when he’d been drinking.

“Oh, so it’s this one?” Brock asked. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Goodbye, Brock,” Bucky persisted, gently tugging Steve away from him.

The fighter didn’t budge as Brock continued to assess him. Hesitantly, Brock began to back away, not taking his eyes off Steve. Thankfully he wasn’t dumb enough to try and challenge the man coming to Bucky’s defence.

“Bye, Bucky,” he muttered, walking across the street and disappearing into a bar.

It was quiet for a moment before Steve glanced quickly down at Bucky then looked back at their friends.

“That’s that then.”

He was already walking in the direction of an oncoming taxi before Bucky could find something to say. ‘Thank you’, for a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not that anyone asked, but my initial inspiration for this fic was the TV show 'Kingdom' starring none other than Frank Grillo (aka Brock Rumlow himself) and then later on, when the writer's block hit, his documentary series 'FightWorld' reignited the spark along with the film 'Warrior' where he plays an MMA trainer. Basically, what I'm saying is there was no way I could leave him out of this fic, even if it was just for a brief appearance.


	6. They Touch

Steve was laying into a punching bag at a staccato pace. It had been a couple of days since his fight with Tony and he was steadily working his way back up to his training standard after a short break. He huffed out a breath with each impact, alternating between jabs, uppercuts and hooks. It was routine. It was mindless. It was exactly what he needed.

It could only be expected that it wouldn’t last much longer.

The door to the gym slammed shut loudly, the noise punctuating the new arrival’s entrance like a sharp full stop. It wasn’t until they were halfway across the floor that Steve looked up to see Bucky walking towards the locker rooms. He tried to ignore the man’s presence like he usually would but when he reappeared on the gym floor he carved a path straight for Steve.

“Hi,” he began hesitantly, watching Steve slow his punches at his approach.

“Hi.”

He finished off one last combo then let the bag swing freely, turning towards Bucky before the other man could say anything more.

“I should apologise for yelling at you after the fight,” he said, biting the bullet for the sake of his morals. It had been bothering him for the last few days, the regret over his actions interrupting the usual relaxing vibes of his recovery routine. He was rather grateful for this chance to clear the air.

“No no, it’s fine. You were probably still pumped up on adrenaline or whatever and I was pushing your buttons, so…”

“Don’t do that,” Steve protested, a serious expression on his face. “Don’t make excuses for that kind of behaviour. I might fight for a living but I know when I’m crossing the line and I should have stopped myself before it got out of hand.”

Bucky looked at him contemplatively before nodding.

“Okay. You’re forgiven.”

“Thank you.”

“I wanted to thank you, too. For the other night, stepping in like that. You didn’t have to but it’s reassuring to know you were willing to...I don’t know. Just. Thanks.”

“...I don’t like bullies,” was his only response.

“That’s admirable.”

“Not really.”

“He was—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Steve interrupted. “It’s none of my business.”

“I know,” Bucky agreed, biting his lip. “But I kind of want to. Just because he said some things and I don’t want to add to your already shitty opinions of me.”

Steve sighed, frustrated at himself. He had never meant to be so standoffish but there was just something about Bucky that put him on edge, had done so right from the start. He was still trying to get a handle on it because it was becoming clear that Bucky deserved better from him.

“His name is Brock and we used to be together. Like...in a relationship,” Bucky continued.

“...Oh.”

He paused to give Steve an assessing look, taking in his suddenly averted gaze and tense posture.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

“...Is it a problem?”

Steve grit his teeth; he didn’t think things could get any worse and here he was coming across as a homophobic bigot. What was wrong with him?

“Of course not,” he insisted, hoping his face relayed his honesty. He was just surprised at the admission, how easily Bucky revealed such personal information to a man he believed hated him.

It took Bucky another moment of staring before he continued, apparently appeased by whatever expression Steve was wearing. 

“It was pretty serious between us; Brock was older and at the stage in his life when he was looking for a move-in boyfriend to dote on him and I hadn’t quite found my feet yet as an adult. It got a little messy when he started acting jealous and possessive so we fought a lot and it all came to a head when he told me he was sleeping with his best friend because he felt like he could trust him more than me. I left and it was fine but he’s got it in his head that I was some insatiable slut because it didn’t work out, which I’m not, I never was. And to be honest I don’t really care what he thinks because I’ve got my career and I’m pretty happy with my life right now. But I just wanted you to know that I don’t go around causing drama and getting into fights on the street because that’s not me at all. I wouldn’t even know how to throw a punch.”

“You don’t know how to throw a punch?” Steve couldn’t help but question.

“Well, we all know I’m no combat expert. And I’m usually a pretty likeable guy so it’s just never come up. Brock was never physically violent with me, just loud and angry.”

“Right.”

“I’m glad it’s over, you know. I can move on to bigger and better things.”

“Right.”

“And looking back on it, I’m fairly certain I was only with him because I’m the sort of person who craves a serious relationship. I like the feeling of mutual trust, where I’ll have his back and he has mine, and I guess I didn’t want to go without that kind support when my career was still up in the air.”

“Right.”

“But now I’m with Shield and everything’s pretty great so it might be time to start looking again.”

“Right.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Steve?”

He was watching the blond with a concerned furrow creasing his brow. Steve didn’t want to worry him, especially when he’d been so honest about himself, but in that moment he felt like he was drowning under the weight of Bucky’s admission. He didn’t know what he was feeling exactly but he knew he needed to leave. Now.

“Yeah, fine,” he insisted. “It’s just been a long day. I actually think I might be done so I’ll leave you to get back to your workout.”

“Oh, I—”

“See you ‘round.”

He didn’t even stop to shower, walking out of Howlies with his gear in hand and all but sprinting home. 

⁂

“I still think this is a terrible idea.”

Bucky didn’t want to sound rude, but it felt like Steve was being more difficult than usual. He still wasn’t on board with their Team USA idea—as was its working title courtesy of Sam. Bucky could admit that the name brought with it cheesy, clichéd connotations but he stood by the plan; Steve should be marketing himself as ACT’s American icon.

“What if it wasn’t that obvious? What if we started off peddling your military past instead? It should be enough to get the ball rolling, and the army and patriotism go hand in hand. Team Cap could be a good hashtag, don’t you think?” Bucky tried.

“I’m not convinced that will do me any good either,” he protested, crossing his arms over his chest, as if assuming a defensive position would end the conversation sooner.

“Steve, unless you have a better idea I think we should listen to James.”

“Thank you, Natasha,” Bucky said, gesturing towards the woman sitting dutifully behind her desk. They’d been arguing about it since the start of the meeting when Bucky had declared it the best chance at achieving their goals. He was already thinking up copy for Steve’s social media profiles. After their talk the other day he was expecting the man to be a little more amiable in today’s meeting, or at the very least willing to cooperate. But apparently, Steve’s problem with Bucky couldn’t be solved with a heart-to-heart in the gym.

“I don’t want to become a figurehead,” Steve argued. “How can anyone take me seriously as a fighter if they're distracted by my star-spangled shorts?”

“I think you’d look great in red, white and blue,” Sam mused from his spot, serenely reclined on the couch.

“Shut up, Sam.”

The trainer huffed but didn’t add anything more. Steve didn’t mean to snap at his friend but he was growing increasingly concerned about the integrity of his image in the face of this dancing monkey routine Bucky was touting.

“We don’t want it to overshadow who you are. We just want something readily identifiable and easy to market; a schtick,” Bucky insisted.

“Like what? Captain America action figures?”

“Don’t say it like that wouldn’t be amazing,” Sam piped up again.

“Captain America,” Bucky repeated. “That is...actually pretty good. I can picture it as, like, the headline for a magazine spread or something. ‘Captain America: The war veteran using his experiences to—’”

“Beat people up competitively? Sounds like a swell guy, a real role model for the kids,” Steve drawled sarcastically.

“Why not?” Natasha interjected.

“Why not what, Nat?”

“Why not involve the kids?” she continued, much to everyone’s confusion.

“I know you’re not saying what I think you’re saying but it’s still what I heard.”

“Shut up, Sam,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I mean if you’re looking for a story why not have him teach a self-defence class or something? There are plenty of kids who are into ACT and would love the chance to learn from one of the fighters. Not to mention the importance of vulnerable people being able to defend themselves. Just the other week you nearly got into a street fight, James, and not everyone has a Steve to jump in and save them.”

Steve looked like he was about to object before thinking better of it. He wasn’t about to claim Bucky hadn’t needed his help because he didn’t know for sure. He told Steve that Brock was never physical with him, but he also said he didn’t know how to punch if it had come to blows. It was dawning on him that Natasha had a point. Not every scrawny kid with a loud mouth could take a hit like Steve had done all his life. A lot of them got seriously hurt and didn’t have the strength to get back up and move on. Being able to defend yourself made all the difference in dangerous situations.

“I’ll do it,” he finally said, “I’ll teach a class. If there’s going to be an interview with Captain America then he’s talking about the importance of staying strong and being smart. Fighting isn’t for on the streets or in your home, but no one should be left defenceless.”

There was a lull of shocked silence.

“How can you not see it when you so readily say things like that?” Bucky asked, staring at him with a strange expression, somewhere between exasperation and wonder.

“See what?”

“See that this is going to be such a good move for you. You’re going to be so much more than just an ACT fighter.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond to that kind of confidence. Instead, he chose to leave Natasha to sort out the details and dragged Sam out onto the gym floor, claiming they better prepare a lesson if this was really happening.

⁂

He was good.

He was so good.

Bucky couldn’t help but watch Steve as he taught a group of about fifty children of varying ages how to block a punch. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from the man but it certainly hadn’t been the warmth of his encouraging words and the easy smile he wore as each of the kids tried to emulate his moves. The mere idea of helping these children stay a little safer in their everyday lives was enough to finally break Steve’s resolve to go ahead with their PR plan, but to Bucky it seemed like Steve was genuinely enjoying himself. And the kids were loving it too. When they’d first arrived Steve had spent over an hour introducing himself to each of them and signing autographs, even roping in the other fighters hanging around at Howlies who were recognised by the kids until majority of the gym was partaking in the lesson. Tony was having a blast, kneeling down to help the youngest participants and feigning submissions when they twisted his limbs.

“This is great.”

Turning towards Karen, the sports journalist he’d invited to cover the event, Bucky grinned broadly.

“I’m glad you think so. Once he’s all finished up you can have some more time to interview Steve and get any extra shots you need.”

“Yeah, thanks. I might grab a couple more quotes from a few people now, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, go for it.”

She’d barely left the space beside him before it was filled by Natasha.

“This is going well,” she said, scanning over the scene before them.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. Thank you, for suggesting it.”

“I know Steve,” she explained with a shrug. “He would never say no to something so righteously selfless.”

Bucky chuckled softly, watching as Steve beckoned Sam over to help him demonstrate the next move. He’d been doing it throughout the entire class but it only became truly distracting for Bucky when they were pulled close together or entwined on the floor. He hadn’t gotten used to the perceived intimacy of certain grappling positions yet, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was all part of an inherently violent sport. At this point he’d almost given up trying; as a gay man, it was only natural that his first thought regarding two fit men rolling around together was sexual. The fact that it was Steve, who would usually be exactly his type, only added to his dilemma; it was proving hard to separate the two trains of thought.

By the time the class wrapped up and Steve had said goodbye to everyone the gym had mostly cleared out. Those who had stayed back to help wipe down and pack away the mats didn’t linger much after that either. Bucky stayed to oversee Steve’s interview, which ended up going for much longer than intended due to the fighter’s captivating way of speaking. He answered questions about ACT with the utmost respect for the sport and his fellow fighters, he spoke of the importance of using his new position to help those less fortunate with the kind of reverence saved for religious devotion, and he recounted his time spent overseas in a warzone as if he carried the responsibility of the nation on his shoulders; grateful for the dedication of soldiers and disappointed by the mishandlings of the powers that be. Karen eventually concluded their interview, displaying more self-discipline than Bucky possessed. He could listen to Steve talk like that for days if the man would permit it, swallowing down his sentences like water to the parched. The journalist left with a good-natured warning for Steve to prepare himself for his oncoming fame, claiming it was one of the best interviews she’d had with an ACT fighter in years.

“I haven’t had a better talent for a piece since Tony Stark decided to start competing, and you know how charismatic he is. You’re very different but just as engaging, if not more so.”

And now Bucky was left staring at Steve, stunned by how well today had gone.

“Wow,” he laughed, brushing a hand down his face as he tried to regroup.

“Good wow?” Steve asked as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Was it all okay?”

“It was incredible, Steve,” Bucky reassured him. “You heard her, this story is going to do wonders for you and your career.”

Steve gave him a small smile in response.

“I hope so.”

“You were really great today, with the kids I mean,” he continued.

“I don’t mind ‘em.”

“It wasn’t what I was expecting, if I’m being honest. It was nice to see a softer side of you.”

Steve’s small smile fell minutely, shifting into something sadder.

“I know I can come across as tough or rigid, especially around the time of a fight. And I haven’t really given you reason to believe otherwise, but I do know how to be vulnerable on occasion.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bucky sighed, having messed up the careful equilibrium between them once again. _Damn it_.

“Sure,” Steve agreed before moving on swiftly. “You should have joined in today, learned how to throw a proper punch.”

“Excuse you,” came Bucky’s indignant reply, “I wasn’t about to interrupt a self-defence class for _children_.”

“We were all beginners once.”

“Shut up.”

“Come on.”

Steve nodded his head in the direction of the ring, grabbing a pair of gloves and some focus pads along the way before sliding under the rope and looking back at Bucky expectantly.

“You can’t be serious right now.”

“Hey, everyone should know how to defend themselves. Did you not just hear my riveting interview?”

“I did,” Bucky agreed, taking slow, hesitant steps towards the boxing ring. “It was really good.”

“And now I’m going to teach you some self-defence because not even pushy PR professionals are exempt from finding themselves in dangerous situations.”

“Not even the ones who have a big, strong ACT fighter to come to their rescue?”

Steve wasn’t going to go anywhere near that question, nor would he acknowledge the twisting in his gut it elicited. 

“Just get up here.”

They started with the gloves so Bucky could learn to put some power behind his punches and how to avoid overextending his arm. Once Steve was convinced he’d practiced enough he jumped out to fetch some hand wraps, so he could give Bucky an idea of what a real punch was like. They moved on to a few kicks, Bucky’s unexpected flexibility impressing the both of them when he almost connected with the side of Steve’s head. Everything was fine, fun even, until Steve insisted on going through a few grappling moves. 

“Okay, so I’m going to take top position—”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

“—because that’s usually how things go down in an attack,” Steve continued, ignoring Bucky’s murmured asides. “Could you spread your legs a bit?”

“ _Jesus_.”

“Come on.”

“Okay okay.”

Bucky complied, spreading his thighs so Steve could fit his bulky body between them, and adamantly did not think of anything even remotely dirty.

“Now a good hip bridge is a solid foundation for escapes on the ground, so you want to put enough power behind your thrust to dislodge your opponent.”

“Oh, sure,” Bucky drawled, nodding along amicably. _Let’s start with a hip thrust, great idea Steve_.

“So what that’s going to do is dislodge my balance and if you trap my arm I should just about fall face-first above your head.”

He demonstrated where to grab his arm and how to position his legs. Still, Bucky was ill-prepared to have Steve’s crotch so close to his face once he’d executed the move.

“That’s pretty good,” the blond said from above him, “Do you want to try it with a roll?”

Bucky had assumed it would be bad but the reality of landing astride Steve’s hips after flipping their positions was infinitely worse than he’d imagined. He was inadvertently filling his mental spank-bank to the brim. And they were fully clothed in loose t-shirts and gym shorts. He tried to remain focused on his lesson but the musk of Steve’s scent and closeness of their bodies were stealing most of Bucky’s attention.

“Good work.”

“Thanks,” he replied breathily.

“Did you want to see a scissor sweep while you’re up there?”

“M‘kay.”

In quick succession, Steve hooked his ankles together behind Bucky’s back and pulled him forward, grabbing a hold of the back of his neck. From there he twisted on his side and lodged the shin of his upper leg against Bucky’s stomach, pressing the calf of his other leg along the outside of Bucky’s where he was still knelt on the floor to keep it in place. Using the momentum of a roll, Bucky suddenly found himself on his back again, this time with Steve straddling his waist.

“Was that too fast?” Steve asked, staring down at the stunned man below him.

“Something like that,” Bucky responded as he swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. Steve had placed his left hand beside Bucky’s head so he wasn’t resting all of his weight on top of him, but _damn_ did Bucky crave just that. He’d been right; he would never be able to separate grappling from sex, especially not when it comes to Steve. _Especially_ not when he was so clearly capable of manhandling Bucky into submission. 

“You alright?” Steve questioned, watching his face warily. He placed his free hand on the floor beside Bucky’s head as well, bringing them a fraction closer as he hovered above him.

“Never better.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded, “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t hate me.”

“For what?”

He couldn’t help himself. Bucky reached up to curl his fingers around the back of Steve’s head, ignoring his furrowed brows and confused expression as he craned his neck upwards to press their lips together. For one shocked moment they were both entirely still, then Steve gasped for breath and returned the pressure with a heat forged from the fires of desperation. His large, calloused hand gripped Bucky’s jaw, cradling it as he pushed forward and licked at parted lips. Their tongues met with a whimper dragged from Bucky’s throat, Steve returning the sentiment with a rough groan of his own. He dragged his teeth along Bucky’s bottom lip, pulling at it gently before closing the distance again and again and again. Their kiss seemed to last centuries but also seconds before Bucky inadvertently rolled his hips up in a sensual emulation of their earlier movements and Steve froze entirely.

The place where their hardening lengths pressed against each other seemed to be where Steve drew the line as he scrambled to his feet, eyes wide and lips red.

“I—”

“Steve—”

“No, I—”

“Steve.”

“You should go.”

Bucky felt his chest tighten as Steve backed away further until he was pressed against the ropes enclosing the ring.

“Steve—” he tried again, but the fighter was having none of it. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped at his hair, tugging harshly where Bucky had moments ago been carding his fingers through the golden strands.

“Please,” he croaked, eyes still closed.

Not knowing what else to do, Bucky climbed down from the ring and headed for the exit, picking up his things on the way.

“Steve—” he began, wanting to try to reason with him one more time.

But when he turned around Steve was already disappearing into the locker room.

That was the end of that.


	7. He Loses

Steve continued to pummel the focus pads Sam was holding up until he was told to drop to the floor for some push-ups. His bare chest was covered in rivulets of sweat from the seemingly endless workout, Sam pushing him as hard as he’d requested when they began today’s session. Steve needed this. He needed the strain in his muscles and shortness of breath. He needed to count off his reps and feel his bones ache. He needed to keep his head blissfully free from thoughts of what had happened—of the thing he was refusing to contemplate, even in the privacy of his own mind.

He hadn’t spoken to Bucky in weeks. 

Natasha had been the one to show him the article from the self-defence class, which was apparently getting the right kind of attention from the ACT community. The fans were particularly enamoured by the considerate veteran-turned-fighter who stood up for the underdog and spoke passionately of fairness. Natasha was delighted by his success, as was Sam. But he had no idea how Bucky felt about it. Not that he planned on asking.

Executing one last combination of powerful hits, Steve stopped so Sam could take him through the next item on their agenda: power squats with added weights. Steve looked forward to the oncoming burn in his thighs, hoping it would be enough to render him thoughtless.

⁂

“What do you mean you haven’t spoken to him since?”

Bucky huffed a sigh as Peggy continued to berate him, knocking his head against the window of the cab. After explaining how things with Steve had escalated, Bucky was forced to listen to Peggy critique his mishandling of the situation. She refused to believe that giving him this much space after his reaction to their kiss was the right thing to do; apparently, three weeks was too long to ignore each other after unexpectedly locking lips.

“He asked me to leave, so I did, and that was the last time we spoke. I haven’t been back to Howlies in case he’s there. I messaged Nat when the article was published so she could show him and cancelled the follow-up meeting. You didn’t hear how he sounded, Peggy.”

“Ugh, men.”

“Don’t you start too,” Bucky warned, reaching over Peggy to point a finger at Angie. The last thing he needed was the two of them ganging up on him.

“I’m just glad I don’t deal with them,” she shrugged, snuggling further into Peggy’s side. He usually loved having Angie around, her bubbly personality warming any room she was in and softening up Peggy’s hard exterior, but right now he kind of wished he’d come on this trip alone. That was never going to happen, though. Peggy had wanted to use up some airline miles and Angie was able to get the time off to fly out, so here they were. Albuquerque was not somewhere Bucky would expect to find an ACT Fight Night, but apparently the sport had a strong following in New Mexico. 

Thanks to a traffic jam on the way, they were now running late but Steve was in the headlining fight so wouldn’t be in the Cube until the final match. When they eventually arrived at the arena, their passes were waiting for them at the door so they could head straight to their seats in the front row. Natasha greeted them with a smile, pulling Peggy into a hug like they were old friends and embracing Angie much the same—not for the first time as it would seem. How Peggy managed to become fast friends with  _ his  _ client’s manager was beyond Bucky but he could hardly say he was surprised.

“There shouldn’t be much of a wait,” Natasha explained as they all settled into their seats. “M’Baku is still pretty new and he looks tired so Cage is probably going to put him down in the next round.”

Sure enough, within minutes Cage had the other fighter on the ground and executed a flawless headlock that had M’Baku passing out quickly, lighting the Cube up red and bringing the fight to an abrupt end. 

“So who’s fighting Steve tonight?” Peggy asked.

“Sif Vanir.”

“Oh, I  _ love  _ her!” Angie gushed excitedly. 

Natasha seemed pleased that Angie was familiar with ACT, grinning as the woman admitted she’d been casually following Sif’s career for a while now. It only made it that much worse when Bucky turned to them with a shocked expression plastered across his features, feeling especially out of the loop.

“ _ Her _ ?”

“Yes, her. Sif’s great. She’s one of the few women in ACT with enough bulk to make it as an iron-weight, and she’s a really skilled fighter,” Angie replied.

“You know, every time I think I finally understand this damn sport it throws another curveball at me.”

“It’s revolutionary,” Natasha shrugged. “ACT never stops evolving and definitely doesn’t discriminate.”

Suddenly the lights dimmed and the ACT theme echoed throughout the stadium as the announcer—an enthusiastic woman named Darcy, according to Natasha—introduced the next fight.

“With us tonight all the way from Germany is an absolute queen of ACT. She stands at six-two and is 188 pounds of pure power, it’s Sif Vanir!”

The crowd went wild as perhaps the most intimidating woman Bucky had ever seen walked towards the Cube. Her dark, pretty features contrasted with her notably pale skin, but her good looks were secondary to the strength she exuded with her long strides and squared shoulders. This was not a woman Bucky would like to face in a fight; he would without a doubt be found wanting and left in pain.

“And challenging her tonight is one of New York’s finest. He too is six foot, two inches tall but weighs in with a little extra at 220 pounds. It’s America’s man with a plan for the future, Steve Rogers!”

Bucky couldn’t hold back a grin at the loud, positive response from the crowd. The interview had definitely done well with the public if the fans were cheering like that; and apparently had left enough of an impression for people to notice Steve’s aspirations outside of his career. ‘The man with a plan’ sounded about right to Bucky.

As Steve began his journey towards the Cube something seemed off. His usual steady, purposeful gait appeared a little rushed and his jaw was twitching as he clenched and unclenched his teeth repetitively. Regardless, he let Sam pat him over, shoved a mouthguard against his teeth, and entered the Cube.

“And here’s Erik Selvig to take us through the all too familiar rules of the game.”

The man looked more like a university professor than an ACT referee, but he outlined his expectations for the match and checked over both the fighters with a practiced professionalism. Steve shook Sif’s hand and they exchanged a few words and a friendly smile, then the fight began.

From the moment Selvig’s hands dropped, the pair were landing blows and parrying hits almost too fast to comprehend. Without question, this was the most impressive fight Bucky had seen to date; he sat there with his mouth agape and eyes glued to the scene as they attacked each other with speed and ferocity usually reserved for the animal kingdom. 

With one last high roundhouse kick that Steve was barely able to intercept and counter, the Cube lit up and the first round ended. The fighters gave each other a few genial pats before heading to their respective corners. Steve accepted the water bottle from Sam, sitting down heavily and stretching a leg out to his trainer, pointing at where a heavy kick from Sif had connected with his knee. He looked up absently as he sipped at the water he was handed and caught Bucky staring back at him. The man watched as Steve froze in place, just as he had the last time they were together. It took Sam a few tries to regain his attention, offering some quick advice before the second round began. Steve was nodding along but had yet to look away from Bucky, only dragging his attention elsewhere when the blue of the Cube flashed all around him and he was expected to get up and keep fighting. 

Sam took back the bottle and towel but hesitated at the door long enough for Selvig to gesture for him to move along when he came over to lock it in place. Turning towards where they were sitting, Sam locked eyes with Natasha and pursed his lips. Steve had been acting odd for a few weeks now and Sam had been worried about how he’d perform tonight. The first round had gone better than he expected but something had shifted in the break and now he had no idea how Steve would fare. 

As soon as round two began it became obvious that Steve was on the back foot. He spent the majority of it trying to block hits, Sif—being the formidable fighter she was—didn’t leave him much room to counter her attacks. He was beaten and bruised to the point where he stumbled back against one of the screens and was forced to continue to take the hits with nowhere to retreat. Sif eventually left an opening just wide enough for Steve to get in an unexpected jab to her stomach, forcing her back so he could quickly step out of her reach. 

He had a split eyebrow that was leaking a trail of blood down the side of his face and his broad chest was heaving with each deep breath he took. He shook his head roughly, focusing back on the fight long enough to land a few well-placed hits before the Cube lit up again. When Steve dropped to his knees in his corner, reaching for the towel to press against his bleeding head, Sam was clearly tearing him a new one. Steve ignored his growling trainer, closing his eyes as his wound was seen to by Sharon and batting away the proffered water bottle. Sam wasn’t finished berating him but the final round began shortly after.

At first, Steve seemed to be doing okay. He blocked plenty of moves from Sif and even managed a few of his own. But then, just before the timer hit twelve minutes, Sif ducked down to sweep Steve’s feet out from under him with a spinning kick. It was usually the kind of move Steve could easily avoid, but as tired and distracted as he appeared, he couldn’t manage it tonight. Not only did he fall, but the momentum had him turning mid-air until he was positioned just so and landed partially on Sif’s knee where it was propped up at a solid 90 degree angle to the floor. It was as if the entire stadium fell silent as they watched Steve’s ribs connect with the hard bone before he rolled away, gripping his side tightly. Sif clearly hesitated to continue but Steve was already attempting to stand, one hand held against his ribs while the other took up a defensive position.

After Sif shot an unsure look at Selvig, who double-checked with Steve to make sure he wanted to continue, the fight resumed. It didn’t go on for much longer, however, as it quickly became clear that Steve was struggling to even breathe properly, rendering him unable to sufficiently block Sif’s kick when it came and instead knocking his own elbow against his already injured side. His face contorted in pain and he stumbled backwards on clumsy feet. As if taking pity on him, Sif swiftly rounded him to approach from behind and forced Steve to double over as she spun and put him in a standing headlock. He was left to tap out before he lost consciousness, resting his hands on his knees and trying to breathe deeply once the fight was over. Sif crouched down to ask if he was alright as Sam flung himself into the Cube with Sharon on his heels, slowly guiding Steve to sit down right there on the mat.

⁂

His ribs were bruised.

Sitting backstage, icing his side, Steve tried to ignore Sam.

“You’re lucky you didn’t fucking break something!” he was shouting. “Sharon said another hit and they’d be fractured for sure. Where the fuck was your head tonight? I knew you shouldn’t have gone through with the fight. And then you keep. Fucking. Going. With bruised ribs! Are you fucking crazy?!”

“Sam,” Natasha began, resting a placating hand on the trainer’s arm, “I’m pretty sure he knows how badly he screwed up.”

“No, he doesn’t because he still hasn’t told me what the fuck went wrong! You know how well Sif fights, how the fuck did you let her get to you like that? You’re falling apart, man.”

Steve knew the yelling was coming from a place of love and fear on his behalf. They were all well aware that one bad injury could  ruin a promising career; it was bad enough that this one would set him back a month or so to heal. Sam was right, he had been an idiot, but cancelling a fight without good reason—because he knew the truth was a pathetic reason to do so—would have felt cowardly. 

“Be honest with me, Steve,” Sam tried, quieter now. “What happened out there?”

He looked up at his trainer, his best friend, and tried to formulate a response.

“My head wasn’t in it,” he admitted. “My head was...it was somewhere else.”

_ Like now _ , he kept to himself. Right now it was wherever Bucky had gone, having stepped into the room with a furious expression on his face, taken one look at Steve gasping for breath while Sharon prodded at his torso, and walked straight back out again. If he’d stayed to yell at Steve alongside Sam he could have dealt with it; he would have ignored them both as he wallowed in his own misery and disappointment. But he hadn’t. Bucky had left and Steve’s aching ribs paled in comparison to the tugging he felt somewhere between his throat and lungs at the man’s absence. But he could ignore that too. If there was one thing Steve knew about himself, it was his ability to shove his own feelings to the back of his mind, and in this case he would be willing to wrap them up tight and throw them in the freezer to be forgotten entirely. He’d been so good at it before. Before Bucky. Before that night. Before this mess.

He needed to try harder to forget and move on. 

He needed to get a hold of himself.

He needed to think about his future.

He needed to—

“Can I go home now?”

Sam sighed heavily. Natasha nodded.

“Yeah, Steve. Let’s get you home.”


	8. They Talk

Howlies was home.

That was Steve’s reasoning when he showed up at the gym after two weeks of bed rest and with strict orders to take it easy.

“Man, get your dumb ass outta here,” Sam said with a wave of his hand, all while Steve was making himself comfortable on the sparring mats.

“I know I’m not allowed to train yet,” Steve argued, “But I’m allowed to sit and watch, aren’t I?”

Sam clicked his tongue as he so often did around Steve and his sassy mouth, shrugging his shoulders in mock indifference.

“You can sit your pasty butt wherever, I don’t care. Just stay out of my session.”

“Session?” Steve asked.

“Yes, session. In fact, here they are now.”

Steve turned to see an unfamiliar woman walk through the door, followed by—

_ Shit _ .

“Buckaroo! This way!”

Steve watched as Bucky’s automatic smile at Sam’s antics fell off his face once he caught sight of him sitting there. The woman he was with had no such qualms, bounding over and dropping her bag to the floor before approaching Steve with an outstretched hand.

“Hi there, I’m Angie.”

“Steve,” he responded in a daze, accepting her proffered handshake.

“I’m sorry about your fight,” she continued, “I know you lost but it was still really great to watch, especially that first round. And I kind of love Sif, so I wasn’t disappointed with the end result if I’m being honest.”

“Um...thank you?”

“I’d been to a couple of fights about a year ago but never front row; what a difference that makes.”

“Front…? Were you there?”

“Oh, yeah. Bucky invited us, me and Peggy.”

“That’s nice,” he replied, still a bit confused but enjoying Angie’s easy friendliness.

“Yeah. He had no idea I was so into ACT. When I was a kid I thought I would grow up to compete but then I found acting so my focus kind of changed before it could go anywhere serious. But I’m still happy to be here today, see if I remember any moves.”

“That’s a shame. It’s always good to have more women involved. Representation is important.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she said with a grin. “Though I’m not sure about playing into the cliché stereotype of female ACT fighters.”

Steve was once again confused. Though Angie seemed to sense this and graciously elaborated.

“I mean about all tough women being lesbians. You’ve met Peggy; English is my girlfriend. It’s so not true, there are plenty of straight female athletes in all sorts of sports but I think it’s more of a male ego thing; if they’re comparing themselves to a woman it better be one that’s as similar to a man as possible so their fragile masculinity survives having their ass kicked.”

“Yeah, you have a point,” Steve agreed. “It’s one of the reasons we all need feminism, right?”

“Totally. And I guess it’s almost the complete opposite for gay guys.”

Steve had become distracted by Bucky eventually arriving at the mats, stretching out his legs with Sam. He didn’t know how to act around him right now, but Angie’s statement was more than enough to draw back all his attention. He could feel himself freezing up, as he seemed to be doing so often lately.

“It’s true,” Bucky added, entering the conversation. “There’s definitely a stigma surrounding gay men in sports, mostly because sporting culture is still so traditionally masculine.”

“Ain’t that a shame,” Angie sighed, dropping down beside her friend to start stretching as well.

“It’d make a huge difference if more sportsmen came out,” Bucky continued, slowly turning to watch Steve who had yet to shift a muscle. “There are definitely a lot of men who feel like they can’t be themselves because of the possible reaction they might get for coming out. And while some backlash is inevitable, it would do so much good for young gay guys who are dying to see some representation in the sports they love.”

Steve couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was back at the fight, trying to convince his lungs to start working again as they refused to take their fill of oxygen.  _ Inhale, please, just inhale _ .

“Steve? You alright?”

Sam’s voice cut through the stupor, allowing him to breathe in deeply as one of his hands automatically gravitated to his side.

“Yeah, I uh...it’s just my ribs. I think you might have been right. I should head home, try to rest some more. Maybe get back on the painkillers.”

“...Okay. Sure,” Sam said, coming over to lend a hand as Steve struggled to get back on his feet. “You gonna be—”

“I’m fine. Just pushing myself before I should, you know me. Nice meeting you, Angie.”

Sam hummed, watching Steve leave the gym before turning back to the other two.

“He seem off to you?”

Angie shrugged, not knowing any better.

Bucky chose to stay silent.

He knew exactly what his little speech had done and it wasn’t fair to Steve. It wasn’t Bucky’s secret to tell; it wasn’t his career to risk. Sometimes he couldn’t help ranting about these things, but he didn’t mean to imply that people like Steve were the problem, especially considering how much responsibility the man already felt for plenty of other injustices. It was wrong of him to let Steve feel that way, no matter his own frustration. Bucky hadn’t worked his whole life to achieve something that could be destroyed by a simple truth. Not that he even knew what the truth was. Acting on assumptions wasn’t something Bucky tended to do, particularly when it involved something as personal as sexuality. Steve needed to know that he didn’t mean it; he didn’t want him to feel like a bad person because the bigotry of others prevented him from addressing this part of himself. ACT meant so much to Steve, Bucky wasn’t about to pressure him into possibly destroying his career.

_ Fuck _ , he thought.

He really needed to talk to Steve.

⁂

As soon as he was given a tentative bill of health Steve hit the ground running. Literally; he left his final medical examination at a jog, slowly building up to a decent pace and bursting through the doors at Howlies. He strutted his way to Natasha’s office, giving a cursory knock before he opened the door.

“Is Sam around?”

Natasha gave him a dubious look before deciding she wanted no part in whatever was happening.

“He’ll be in at two.”

Steve let her return to her paperwork and instead decided to continue his running warm up while he waited since he wasn’t stupid enough to go too hard without the supervision of his vigilant trainer. Nothing brought forth the wrath of Sam Wilson like overexerting himself after an injury. But Steve had been going crazy, cooped away in his apartment, alone with his thoughts. Nothing had been able to distract him, nothing could occupy his mind enough to drown out the confusion, the anger, the disappointment, the self-loathing. Bucky’s words reappeared in every moment of silence, pressing on his chest like a physical weight; a constant reminder of the lies he told and secrets he withheld. The consequences of being honest. The good, the bad, the—

“Steve!”

The treadmill slowed to a stop as Sam yanked the emergency cord away.

“Hey,” he panted, wiping at the sweat on his forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“Training. I can. I’m cleared.”

“Alright, alright. Catch your breath so we can talk about this properly.”

Steve stepped off the machine, accepting a bottle of water from Sam as he tried to slow down his breathing. Once he could speak at an even pace, Steve recounted what the doctor had said and Sam had no choice but to relent, albeit reluctantly so.

“But we’re taking it easy until I’m convinced.”

“Yes, boss.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay.”

And Steve did listen. He kept things simple, didn’t strain himself no matter how tempted he was. Eventually, Sam accepted that he really had made a full recovery and began to push him harder over the following days until he was back to his usual training regime. 

But now it didn’t feel like enough. Steve was still plagued by his ongoing stream of unwelcome thoughts. He wanted—no,  _ needed _ —to drown it out. And the respite he found in the gym was the best way he knew how. He ran further, punched harder, performed more reps, and all at a quickened pace. Sam thought he was overcompensating for the loss, but the problem ran much deeper than bruised ribs and shattered pride. 

It wasn’t until Nat let him know she was in the process of getting him another fight that things came to a head. It was the perfect excuse to push himself even more, citing his muscle loss while he was recovering as the main reason for his increased training; he needed to tone up again to consider himself elite. 

“Steve, you’re in great condition. Would you please just have a rest?”

Sam had been giving him quiet warnings the whole session. Lying on a flat bench as he continued to lift weights, Steve was quickly running out of patience.

“Can’t.”

“The fight isn’t for weeks yet and you’re gonna burn out if you’re not careful.”

“I’m good.”

“Just take a quick water break or something, there’s no rush.”

“Sam, just leave it.”

Of course that was when Steve’s left arm gave out and he nearly beheaded himself as the barbell he’d been lifting came down in a rush. Sam managed to catch the bar from where he’d been spotting him, helping to place it back on the stand before shooting the fighter an unimpressed look.

“Okay, that—”

“Man, shut the hell up.”

Sam stormed off in the direction of the locker rooms without another word. Letting out a long sigh, Steve grabbed his drink bottle from the floor and followed after his trainer. He’d rather face his punishment now.

“Sam, I’m sorry.”

The locker room was empty aside from the two of them, Steve in the doorway and Sam already sitting on one of the benches as he rifled through his bag. Steve waited for a response to his apology but none came. 

“The silent treatment isn’t going to get us anywhere. I’d prefer to clear the air now, if it’s all the same to you.”

Still nothing. Sam tapped away at his phone before putting it back and grabbing a towel.

“Sam, I know you have something to say so just say it.”

“Why should I? Apparently, you don’t listen to me anymore.”

“That’s not tru—”

“Bullshit. I take you through your training, no problem, but when it really counts you do your own thing and once it all goes to shit you’ve got no explanation for me.”

“Is this about the Sif fight?”

“Of course it’s about the Sif fight, Steve! And everything since. What’s going on with you, man?”

Steve didn’t know how to answer. He could recognise that the simplicity of the truth would be a weight off his shoulders but he was too proud—no, too frightened—to admit it. To do so would mean saying it out loud. It would be putting it into words and sharing them with someone else when he couldn’t even be that honest with himself.

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally landed on. 

“Well try harder. If you’re going to be stupid and hurt yourself before your biggest fight yet then I need to know why.”

Sam met his gaze evenly, his dark brown eyes searching for the real reason Steve had been so out of it lately. Even while he was angry, Steve’s wellbeing was his priority. It was that warm, reassuring look on his face that had Steve’s own eyes welling up with frustrated tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sam said in a rush, the unexpected reaction from his friend only serving to increase his resolve to get some answers.

“Sam, I can’t,” Steve said, shaking his head as the man approached him and placed firm but comforting hands on his shoulders.

“Can’t what, buddy?”

“Can’t say it.”

“Sure you can.”

“No, you don’t get it,” he insisted through gritted teeth, staring steadfastly at the floor.

“So explain then. Take me through it.”

Inhaling deeply, Steve tried to do as he was told.

“It’s Bucky.”

“Really? We’re back to that? Why are you still so caught up on him after what he’s trying to do for your career? He’s a good guy.”

“No, just let me...it’s about Bucky.”

“Yes, you said.”

“The day I led that defence class he stayed back to oversee the interview and we were getting along fine.”

“That’s good,” Sam reassured him, still failing to see an issue.

“And then I offered to teach him some things since he’s apparently hopeless at defending himself.”

“He’s gotten better since he started coming to Howlies, not that he’s come here in awhile.”

Something vaguely clicked into place for Sam then, who squinted at Steve sceptically.

“Does that have something to do with all this?”

“Probably,” Steve admitted.

“Alright. What happened then?”

“We were sparring and grappling. And then he…”

Steve couldn’t. He thought he could but he really,  _ really  _ couldn’t.

“Then what, Steve?”

He could feel himself sinking, his head throbbing and eyes dampening again. He couldn’t.

“Steve,” came Sam’s imploring voice, gentle but insistent. 

He couldn’t, until he did.

“We kissed.”

Steve ignored Sam’s sharp intake of breath and wide-eyed expression of shock. Instead, he sunk onto the bench with his head in his hands and let the words fall out of his mouth in a desperate rush to end the conversation.

“We kissed and it was good but I freaked out because I can’t have feelings for another man, Sam, not without jeopardising my entire career because you know what that can do to an athlete. The backlash that would bring, the controversy. And it’s just so sad because there are people, teenagers, young kids who are too afraid to be themselves and if they just saw more people like them come out and be open then they might feel better about who they are. But I can’t be that person for them, Sam, not if it means giving up ACT—especially after all of the work you’ve done. You guys have put up with me for so long and we’ve achieved something that could be really great but not if it’s all ruined by the truth, then it’d all be for nothing, just nothing. I’d have nothing, Sam.”

Steve fell silent, awaiting a response from his friend. He hadn’t thought today would end like this; he could only imagine what it was like for Sam.

“So that’s how it is, huh?”

Steve nearly choked on the unexpected huff of laughter that escaped him. Trust Sam to treat a shock like that as a casual, everyday occurrence. And fuck, was Steve grateful for it.

“That’s how it is,” he confirmed with a watery smile, the same response he would give if they were messing around during a workout.

Sam was grinning widely, giving him an assessing once over.

“I should have seen this coming. A guy like you could only be single if he was pushing the ladies away on purpose. You suddenly make so much more sense to me.”

Steve could feel himself blushing as he chuckled at his trainer’s words.

“I guess it saves some for the rest of us,” he continued. “Now I don’t need to worry about you swooping in and stealing Nat out from under me before I’ve even put down the moves.”

“Oh my God, Sam. Really?”

“What? She’s hot, you know that. I don’t know where you're sitting on the scale of sexuality but you’re not blind.”

Steve could at least agree with that.

“So...do you know how exactly you identify?” Sam pushed gently. “Or are you still figuring it out? Because that’s okay too, totally normal. You don’t even have to decide. Everything’s fluid nowadays.”

“You know, I’m not entirely sure just yet. I’ve been ignoring it for so long now that I haven’t really had the chance to...I dunno, consider it properly, I guess?”

“Hey, that’s fine man.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime.”

Steve accepted the towel out of Sam’s hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead, subtly swiping at his teary eyes as well. His face was still buried in the fabric when Sam decided to push the conversation one more time.

“Bucky, huh?”

Steve damn near whined at the mention of him. All of it came down to that man. 

“That’s not your business.”

“Fair enough,” Sam acknowledged. “He’s a handsome guy, though.”

“Sam.”

Hearing the warning tone in his voice, Sam dropped the subject and went to take a shower. Steve sat in silence, trying to accept that Sam knew— _ he knew _ —and he’d been okay with it. In his head, he could acknowledge that he had taken a big step and gotten a really good result compared to the experiences of some other people. But even after sharing his secret with Sam, Steve still felt conflicted. His unease stemmed from the way he left things with Bucky. He had yet to decide how he really felt about the man, and about all the drama he had caused. 

He did know something for certain, though: There was no way he could talk to Bucky before he knew exactly what to say. 

Whatever this was, whatever it could end up being, Steve was not about to fuck it up.


	9. He Interrupts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where we earn that Explicit rating, kids.

The gym was silent aside from the steady rhythm of Steve’s fists against a punching bag. Everyone else had gone home, even Sam who had stuck around long enough to feel reassured that Steve wasn’t about to have another close call with a barbell like last week. After promising to stick to the bag, Steve was finally alone and had never been more grateful for the reprieve of the quiet, empty warehouse. It had been days and he still hadn’t worked out how to approach the situation with Bucky. 

But really, he felt entitled to taking his time. He’d had to come to terms with a part of himself he’d denied for so long, on top of navigating his all too complicated feelings for the other man. There was really no prescribed timeframe for these kinds of things. Hell, it had taken him thirty-two years just to vaguely acknowledge it. He was trying, he was, but figuring himself out was proving harder than anticipated. That’s why he was taking a break tonight from the pacing and stress-eating he would otherwise be doing at home. Steve would face the issue with a clean slate in the morning. In the meantime, he intended to keep pummelling this bag until he felt tired enough to go home and fall into a dreamless sleep. One that didn’t bring up memories of—

“Hey, stranger.”

Steve flinched so hard it must have looked like he took a punch from an invisible force. He hadn’t heard the door to the gym open, apparently too distracted by thoughts of...well.

“Bucky.”

“Hi, Steve.”

The dim lighting in the gym cast shadows across his angular face. His jaw looked sharp and his eyes bright, dark hair rumpled and curling loosely over his brow. Even with all of his recent ruminating, Steve had almost forgotten just how striking Bucky’s appearance was.

“How did you know I was here?”

“I messaged Sam. He said he left you here a while ago but you probably hadn’t gone home yet.”

_ Damn it, Sam. _

Steve nodded in silence, unwrapping his hands as an excuse to avert his gaze.

“I, uh, was wondering if you might be ready to talk,” Bucky continued. “It’s just been a while and we haven’t really had a chance to address the elephant in the room.”

How sweet of him to make excuses, as if Steve hadn’t been actively avoiding the discussion since freaking out about their kiss. He walked towards the bench to drop the hand wraps and picked up his water bottle, head remaining tilted towards the floor. Steve was still facing away when he cleared his throat to speak. 

“Did  _ you  _ have something to say about it?”

Bucky stared at Steve’s back, those broad shoulders drawn tight under his sweat-soaked t-shirt, shifting as he lifted the bottle to his mouth. He wasn’t sure where the fighter’s head was at but he was determined to get some answers tonight.

“I was hoping you’d come around sooner, if I’m being honest.”

He watched Steve flinch again, still refusing to turn around and face him.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Bucky continued. “And I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable. I thought we were finally getting somewhere with our tenuous relationship but I’ve probably gone and ruined it all. Big surprise.”

“You didn’t,” Steve murmured, turning away from the shadows just slightly but not enough for Bucky to decipher his expression.

“I did, I know that. I might have asked you not to hate me but I can’t control how you feel.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” Steve repeated, finally moving to face him.

“I did, Steve. Why else would you have reacted like this?”

Bucky was trying so hard to remain civil but he could feel himself becoming frustrated at Steve’s stubbornness. 

“I don’t know why I reacted like that,” Steve admitted, carding his hand through his hair as he glanced away again.

“You’re lying, don’t try to soften the blow. Are you worried I’m going to jump you again?”

“No, I—”

“Because I’m genuinely sorry for surprising you like that, it wasn’t okay.

“Bucky, it’s not—”

“What then? Are you having a ‘big gay freak out’ or something?”

He meant it as a joke. Bucky honestly thought there could be no other reason for Steve’s behaviour but the fear that Bucky would try to do it again. Now, watching a pained expression cross his face as he shuffled on unsure feet, Bucky realised he’d hit the target dead on. 

“Oh, God,” he let out on an exhale, regretting it instantly when Steve looked up at him like he thought Bucky was about to laugh in his face. “Steve.”

Myriad emotions crossed over his features, ranging from devastated to embarrassed and landing on something like acceptance, only much more sombre. He nodded once before taking a few steps in the direction of the locker rooms.

“No, Steve,” Bucky called out once his brain caught up with him. He jogged across the padded mats to close the space between them, reaching to grab Steve’s arm only to have it snatched away like his touch burned.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he growled, brows furrowed in a glare Bucky couldn’t stand to be on the receiving end of.

“Steve, I didn’t realise, please.”

The fighter continued towards the locker rooms, walking away again—away from Bucky—when he decided to go for broke.

“I care about you, Steve.”

It stopped him instantaneously.

“I don’t know when it happened, or even how, but I do. You’re strong and determined and kind. Maybe not always to me, but definitely to those who need it. You’re passionate about what you do and you want to make the world a better place and...”

Steve hadn’t turned around yet but Bucky needed him to. He wanted to know if risking everything right now was a mistake. He needed to know if he was wrong.

“And you told me you knew how to be vulnerable. That’s what I’m asking you to do now. Be vulnerable for me, Steve, because I need to know if I’ve just ruined everything or if you...if you somehow might care about me too.”

The silence ate at Bucky like a parasitic disease. Steve did nothing to break it, slowly turning around to stare at Bucky with a blank face.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded. He just needed Steve to say  _ something _ .

“What do you want me to say?” 

The question was muttered, almost inaudible, as Steve shook his head in disbelief.

“The truth,” Bucky said.

“The truth. You want the truth?”

Steve let out a laugh that was anything but humorous, shaking his head incredulously as he finally locked eyes on Bucky.

“The truth is I wasn’t ready to have this conversation with you. The truth is I’ve spent weeks trying to sort out what’s happening in my head and how I feel about you so that I knew what to say when we did finally have this conversation because at the very least I knew we needed to have it. Sam watched me have a breakdown in the locker room the other day when I couldn’t tell him that I was gay because I don’t even know if I am yet. I can’t work out if I like men in general or if it’s just you with your stupid, gorgeous face and smart mouth and good intentions and I haven’t been able to act normal around you since we fucking met because I’ve never had someone affect me like this before. It was instant attraction and instead of being an adult, I lashed out like a little boy with a crush, pulling your pigtails in the schoolyard. I don’t know what to say to you, Bucky, I just know that I tried to ignore everything and I ended up injured because you were right there in the front row and I’d been trying so hard not to think about you and the kiss and now I’m finally trying to come to terms with it and instead of letting me have that ‘big gay freak out’ in peace you storm into my gym and try to—”

“Don’t hate me,” Bucky said in a rush as he launched himself in Steve’s direction because fuck it.

There was no hesitation this time. Steve surged forward to meet him with a hungry groan, opening his mouth to Bucky’s as he clasped his jaw in a tight grip. Neck craned back to accommodate their difference in height, Bucky licked at Steve’s tongue until he reciprocated with the passion he knew he could draw out of the fighter. Steve’s large hands brushed a slow path down from Bucky’s neck, chest, waist, hips, arse, finally stopping on the backs of his thighs so Steve could lift him from the ground. Bucky stopped breathing for a moment, arousal overwhelming him as Steve took his weight easily, biting at Bucky’s bottom lip before he slowly knelt and lowered them both to the ground.

Coming back to his senses as he was reclined against the floor mats, Bucky took hold of Steve with two fist-fulls of blond hair and tried to steal the breath out of his lungs. They kissed and kissed and kissed until Bucky’s lips were numb and his coordination lost. Steve simply migrated to his strong cheekbones before trailing his mouth down to Bucky’s jaw.

“I don’t hate you,” Steve said, resuming a conversation from another lifetime—a time before Bucky knew how it felt to have Steve so clearly and unashamedly want him like this, bodies pressed together tightly.

“Good,” Bucky was able to reply, albeit slightly slurred, as Steve’s tongue glided smoothly along his throat. 

“I think I tried to, because it would’ve been easier, but I just couldn’t avoid it. You’re too much for me, Buck.”

Any response was stolen by the gasp Bucky released as Steve bit down on the side of his neck, pulling Bucky closer by the hands he slid up his thighs and back over his arse. Whimpering at the friction, Bucky rolled his hips upwards as he chased the feeling, letting his head loll to the side as Steve continued to press his mouth against the vulnerable skin of his neck.

“Do you have any idea how badly I’ve been wanting this?” Bucky asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Tell me,” Steve ordered.

If he kept up that stern tone Bucky knew he wouldn’t last very long. Good thing he could give as good as he got.

“I’ve spent nearly every night trying to imagine what it would have been like. If you’d stayed and we’d kept going. How it’d feel to get my hands on you, to have yours on me. To have yours  _ in  _ me.”

Steve moaned like he’d been shot, grinding his hips downwards in a rough thrust.

“God, it’s so hard to keep up the image in my head when all I have are my own hands.”

“Bucky,  _ fuck _ .”

“Exactly. Toys only get you so far, Steve. I’d remember the shape of you from last time. It was only for a second and I felt guilty for putting you in that position at all but it was enough to let me imagine it was your cock when I was playing with myself.”

Steve swore he was about to pass out. He knew Bucky had a way with words but this was all too much.

“Hell, I’m probably prepped enough for you from this morning alone.”

That did it.

Steve shuddered as he came in his shorts, gasping against Bucky’s neck as his grip on his thighs tightened sporadically, definitely leaving a trail of finger-shaped bruises. For a split second, Bucky worried that he’d gone too far again when Steve disappeared from his place on top of him, but that doubt disappeared the moment he reached out to unbutton Bucky’s jeans.

“Yes, yes, yes,  _ yes _ ,” Bucky chanted, canting his hips to help Steve rid him of his pants.

“This is the furthest thing from a romantic first time you could get,” Steve said as he tugged at the laces of Bucky’s boots. “But I don’t think you care about that right now. And I think I’ve made us wait long enough.” 

“Honestly, who cock-blocks themself?”

“Shut it,” he chuckled, finally getting Bucky out of his jeans and taking hold of his underwear instead.

“Sure thing, Cap.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow at the shortened honorific. The snark of it. Meeting Bucky’s gaze steadily, he slowly crawled over the man until he was hovering above him once again. The movement stole Bucky’s attention entirely; he didn’t even notice Steve’s right hand until fingers were tapping gently at his lips. 

“Better get ‘em wet, Buck. Wait’s over.”

The command in Steve’s voice really was going to be the death of him. Bucky’s lips parted obediently, his tongue reaching out to taste Steve’s fingers before they were pushed gently inside his mouth. His hips continued to undulate, rolling against the air until Steve offered up his strong thigh for Bucky to rub against. Steve watched as Bucky’s head tipped back on a groan, his soft lips still wrapped around the fingers in his mouth. He could barely believe the sight.

“I’ve never done this with a guy,” he admitted, still watching Bucky with an unwavering stare. “But I think we’ll manage, right Buck?”

The whine Bucky released was a sound of pure desperation. His eyelids fluttered open and he refocused on Steve, nodding meaningfully as his tongue continued to press against his fingers.

“Yeah, I thought so. Take off your clothes for me.”

Bucky had never moved so fast in his life. He shoved his briefs down his thighs, nearly bending himself in half to yank them off his feet and fling them over his head. It was his henley that proved a challenge as he got it up to his armpits before he realised he’d need to let go of Steve’s fingers in order to take it off. And he really didn’t want to do that.

“I know, baby, but you can have them back in a second,” Steve was murmuring in a reassuring tone as he reluctantly removed his fingers from the silky smoothness of Bucky’s mouth.

“Holy shit,  _ Steve _ ,” Bucky gasped.

Where the fuck was he pulling this from?  _ Baby?  _ Bucky was not coping.

The henley came off and Steve leant down to kiss him fleetingly before returning his fingers as promised. His other hand went to Bucky’s crotch, wrapping firmly around his length and pumping at a steady rhythm. It felt reminiscent of the punches he’d been in the middle of earlier, before Bucky had interrupted, that unwavering pace now transformed into something from Bucky’s wet dreams.

“ _ God _ , you’re so pretty, Buck,” Steve said, watching as the man sucked at his fingers, both of Bucky’s hands clasped gently around his forearm to hold it in place. 

With an unexpected squeeze to his balls, Bucky’s mouth parted and Steve removed his fingers once again. But before Bucky could complain Steve had lowered his hand and was rubbing firmly against his perineum, dipping closer and closer to his hole with each movement.

“Steve. Steve.  _ Steve. _ ”

Bucky gasped as he was finally breached, Steve’s index finger sliding smoothly inside him without trouble. Steve’s mouth fell open as he watched the reactions he pulled out of Bucky, his brows furrowed in concentration as he began to twist and curl his finger. When he finally found Bucky’s prostate the man released a loud groan that echoed off the high ceiling of the empty gym. Steve’s grin was predatory as he continued to rub against the spot, adding a second finger with little resistance. All the while, Bucky was panting and whining and chanting his name like a prayer. The way he was saying it— _ Steve. Oh. Oh, Steve. Steve. Steeeve _ —was driving him mad with lust, each thrust of his fingers punching out yet another sweet sound as Bucky clawed at the padded mats below him. There was no doubt in Steve’s mind that he could happily do this all day. Until—

“Please, yes, Steve!” Bucky cried out as his entire body froze for one tense moment before he was careening over the edge with a guttural moan. 

Steve watched, awe-struck, as Bucky’s eyes rolled back at the pleasure he’d caused him, only letting up when he was done twitching and his stomach was covered in his release. He removed his fingers slowly from Bucky’s arse and took a moment to gently glide his other hand up his spent cock, catching a drop of come on his thumb that he curiously brought up to his mouth to taste.

“Dear God,” Bucky sighed below him, watching the movement with a reverent look in his eyes. 

“So that was…” Steve trailed off.

“If you say anything less than amazing I will literally punch you. I know how to do that now.”

Steve huffed out a laugh then nodded his head.

“Amazing,” he agreed, then stood up and walked to his gym bag, grabbing a towel. 

Bucky watched him wipe his hands gingerly before Steve knelt beside him and wiped off the mess on his stomach.

_ What a gentleman _ .

“You’re kinda bossy, huh,” Bucky mused, stretching his limbs out to bask in the post-coital haze before it faded.

“Am I?” Steve said with a chuckle, balling up the dirty towel and setting it aside.

“Don’t sound so surprised. You have to know your Daddy levels are off the charts.”

“Daddy?”

Bucky swallowed thickly at the rumbling resonance in Steve’s voice, deep enough to match the dark look in his eyes.

“I kinda like that,” he added, just to ruin Bucky a little more.

“This is where I die,” he stated. “Right here, lying naked in the middle of Howlies. I’m probably already dead. You fucked me to death, Steven.”

“And you’re kind of a drama queen, huh?” the fighter said, laughing at Bucky’s shocked expression.

“I am no such thing.”

“Whatever you say, Buck. Now, you gonna put your clothes back on yourself or do you need Daddy to help you?”

Bucky sat up abruptly, glaring at Steve.

“Don’t even joke about that.”

He laughed again as Bucky began dressing himself. God, Steve was so handsome like this. Smiling. Happy. Bucky hadn’t realised how starved he was for Steve’s joy. He seemed to sense Bucky’s contemplative thoughts, his expression sobering into something serious.

“I don’t hate you,” he repeated, staring resolutely at his hands that were twisting over themselves in his lap. “I never hated you and I’m sorry you thought I did. I know there wasn’t a reason for you to think otherwise but I want you to know.”

“Thank you. For the apology. I’m sorry I let it get the best of me sometimes; I’m quick to anger and lash out.”

Steve nodded, finally looking up again.

“I don’t know how I’m going to feel about this once the endorphins stop,” he admitted. “Right now all I can think about is how much I enjoyed that with you but once my mind starts running I wouldn’t be surprised if I freak out again.” 

“Okay,” Bucky said, not entirely sure how to respond.

“Okay?”

“I don’t know what to say, Steve,” he sighed. “I didn’t have a problem with my sexuality growing up. I was lucky. I didn’t really get bullied in school for it or anything, never really had to hide, so I don’t know how to respond to all this.”

Pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose, Steve inhaled deeply.

“It’s not that I have a problem with gay people or anything, I never have. I just...I’ve put so much time and effort into my career and I don’t know how I would cope if anything ruined it. And I can’t help how homophobic sporting culture can be, it’s just another thing wrong with the world, but it’s one thing that could change everything in my life so I’ve never let myself think about it. I don’t even know that I am gay because I’ve dated women and I definitely enjoyed sex with them but it’s just—”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted, placing a comforting hand on his knee, “You’re allowed to take the time to figure it out.”

“Yeah?” Steve said, gnawing at his lip unsurely.

“Of course. And I don’t want you to feel guilty for not knowing how to handle your feelings. You don’t owe me anything. This is something for you to come to terms with, it’s nobody else's business.”

Steve still looked concerned and Bucky was not having it. 

“Nobody needs to know, Steve,” he tried. “You can spend your entire fighting career in the closet, but that doesn’t mean you can’t see people privately. It’s the oldest trick in the book, you get the best of both worlds.”

“What if it gets out though?”

“Then we deal with it.”

Steve glanced up at that.

“We?”

“Of course,” Bucky replied with a smile. “I’m your PR guy, remember?”

“Oh.”

_‘Oh’?_ _What did he mean ‘oh’?_

“Steve,” he implored.

“You’re right. I still need to think about it though.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“For what it’s worth, this really was amazing, Buck.”

Relieved that they were finally getting somewhere, Bucky grinned unabashedly as he stood, offering his hand to help Steve up.

“I’m glad we agree on something.”


	10. They Celebrate

Bucky gives Steve his space. The space he owed him when the man was trying to figure out his feelings, before Bucky barged in and forced it out of him. And while that night had certainly been a good one—amazing, even—Steve still deserved time to himself to think it all over in private. So when Natasha contacted him to say he was needed for a team meeting he was curious, to say the least.

“I got T’Challa,” is how Natasha began as soon as he entered, much to the elation of Sam and Steve. 

Bucky smiled politely, awaiting further explanation as was now commonplace in present company.

“He’s a pretty big deal,” Natasha offered him with a smile.

“More like one of the biggest deals in the weight class,” Sam amended. “His dad was one of the original champs from when Howard Stark first started recruiting fighters. ACT is in his blood just as much as Tony’s. He’s held the iron-weight title a few times over the years.”

“He’s agreed to fight me?” Steve asked, clearly needing further reassurance that he’d heard correctly.

“Yes. I reached out to his people and they were happy to accept; we fly to Wakanda in just over a month,” Natasha explained. “It’ll be one of the exhibition matches before the Okoye–Melinda title fight.” 

Steve was beaming. It was that old-Hollywood, young heartthrob smile that Bucky had glimpsed the other night. Joyful. Euphoric. Pure sunshine. He couldn’t help but mirror it himself.

“Congratulations, Steve,” he said.

“Thank you,” the fighter replied after a moment, still smiling dazedly.

“Better start brainstorming, Buckaroo. The international market is one we haven’t broken through yet,” Sam added.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll do some research and get back to you with a plan.”

“Nothing too intense though,” Natasha added. “They take ACT very seriously over there. Any sort of controversy or negative press and they’ll all but formally exile a fighter, which is a huge chunk of the global audience to miss out on.”

Steve’s sunny smile dimmed a shade at the unintentional reminder of his inner turmoil. He had yet to make a proper decision about how to handle his sexuality’s place in the grand scheme of his career, but he was working on it. Really. It still stung to think that he could potentially alienate so many people with a part of himself that had nothing to do with his fighting. But it was his fighting that he really needed to focus on now. T’Challa was having a good run as of late and Steve would have to compensate for that with his own training regime. Hopefully, now that he’d cleared some of the air with Bucky he wouldn’t find himself so caught up in his own head and could concentrate on winning. Because what was he doing all this for if not to succeed?

⁂

After putting it off for so long, Bucky was finally doing a real deep dive into his ACT research. He found that Natasha’s warning about the African audience wasn’t an overstatement in the least; Wakanda was the ACT Capital of the continent but its reach stretched far beyond their borders. He found the latest few fighters to lose their place in the sport and could trace the beginning of their downfalls back to boycotts from Wakandan audiences. But so far none of them seemed unjustified. Aldrich Killian was caught using dangerous experimental steroids and hadn’t been booked since. Malcolm Keith would get violent with his team in between rounds and had been forced into an early retirement. Erik Killmonger, originally from Wakanda, was taken to court in a domestic abuse case and consequently shunned from not just ACT, but all forms of organised combat sports in the region. Not even managers were safe, what with Obadiah Stane and all his contracted fighters being blacklisted after some truly horrendous comments about social class hierarchy and “where people belong”. 

But Steve was the complete opposite of those guys and Bucky was sure they would love him as long as they played it right. He could admit that as such a fresh face Steve didn’t have much room for error, but he also knew that Steve was a genuinely good person. 

Bucky realised it would likely push any discussions about the two of them and what happened further back as well, but he wasn’t too concerned by that. He didn’t want a repeat of the last fight with Sif; he’d been steeping in guilt over that mess since Steve had all but confirmed it was his fault. Bucky knew he hadn’t meant it that way but he couldn’t help but accept some of the blame. This time would be different. This time they were focusing on the fight itself and Steve’s image as a fighter, nothing else. Personal dramas could wait.

“Sam! Steve!” Bucky called out as he walked through Howlies a few days later, on his way to Natasha’s office. 

He waited for the pair to turn his way before waving them over. They set down their equipment and followed behind him, the three of them joining Natasha in her office.

“I’ve got a few promo ideas I’d like to run by everyone,” Bucky began, pulling out a folder from his satchel.

“I hope it all looks like the 4 th of July in there,” Sam said jokingly, grabbing it from Bucky’s hand before anyone else had the chance.

“Not as much as you’re probably thinking,” he laughed. “Mostly it’s social media stuff since you’re really lacking in that department, Steve, but there are some design ideas for specialty shorts which need your okay before we can order them.”

Steve tugged at the corner of the folder until Sam conceded, leaning closer to the fighter so they could both look over the pages. The shorts in question were dark blue with a silver star design, the elastic running up the sides a deep crimson, so subtly tinged with red it almost looked black. They were on theme but not tacky; a balance Steve had been worried they wouldn’t be able to strike. 

“I like them,” he admitted. “And the social media posts all seem okay. Do I really need an Instagram, though?”

A resounding ‘yes’ came at him from three different directions.

“Okay then,” he murmured, looking back at the folder in front of him.

“You’re such a grandpa sometimes,” Sam chuckled. “Who’s taking photos of him, then?”

“I’ll take care of that,” Bucky replied. “They’ll mostly be of you training and the press photos from the weigh-in. And if you do anything particularly admirable in the next few weeks. You’re not planning to volunteer at a soup kitchen this weekend by chance?”

“No, but Sam and I help out at the VA whenever we can. Mostly advocate stuff. We’re preparing a case now for the Tribunal about funding cuts.”

Bucky stared at him, gobsmacked. He didn’t know how else to respond.

“You’re unbelievable,” he finally decided. “Do you think they’d mind if we shared something about it?”

“They’ve actually started an online campaign. This isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

“I’ll reach out to them, see if we can sort something out.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“You two feeling okay?” Sam interrupted, one eyebrow raised and a sly grin on his face. “You haven’t disagreed once today.”

“Anyway,” Bucky continued, “I looked into the Wakandan market and I agree with Natasha. We’re going to play it safe up until then to avoid anything being misconstrued. Undoing damage isn’t as easy as avoiding it altogether, even if it’s all just rumours and not our fault to begin with.”

“So no crazy stunts?” Sam joked.

“Nope,” he said, glancing towards Steve. 

The fighter was concentrating solely on the folder in front of him, flicking through the pages without really looking them over anymore. Bucky couldn’t gauge his expression but no risky publicity definitely impacted any intentions to address his sexuality.  _ It’s for the best _ , he justified. They could come back to that when the time was right. For now, Sam could drag the man back out to the gym to continue his training.

⁂

“They’ll love this,” Bucky said quietly, typing a few notes on his phone as Steve and a small group of volunteers continued to sort through a mountain of paperwork.

“What?” Steve asked distractedly.

“This,” was Bucky’s answer, accompanied by a waving hand to encompass all the work in front of him. “Your involvement in worthy causes, unafraid to call out the Government’s failure to support veterans. Raising awareness for these volunteers and the VA. Just you being yourself. You have nothing to worry about in Wakanda. They’ll love you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Steve said, cheeks burning with a sweet, rose-coloured blush.

“I do,” Bucky reassured him. 

The pair smiled at each other for a suspended moment, quiet only to the two of them. Bucky was the one to look away, putting his phone back in his pocket. He could type out social media captions later.

“Can I help?”

Steve seemed surprised at the offer but agreed nonetheless, grabbing some pages and explaining the task. They worked diligently for a couple of hours, pausing for a coffee break then getting back to it for a bit longer. As the number of volunteers began to dwindle, Bucky realised how late it was getting. Steve seemed to be thinking the same thing because he offered to treat Bucky to a late dinner to thank him for his help. 

“You don’t have to—”

“Come on. I’m starving,” Steve insisted, already shrugging on his brown leather jacket and heading towards the door.

They ended up at a food truck a few blocks down, a burrito each in hand as they continued to walk in the direction of Bucky’s apartment that wasn’t too far away.

“Are you even allowed to eat that?” he questioned, licking a bit of sauce off his thumb as he watched Steve chew happily beside him.

“I get one cheat meal a week up until the last fortnight before a fight,” he reasoned.

“As long as Sam won’t get all narky about it. He really knows how to make you feel like you’re back in the principal’s office.”

“It’s a gift,” Steve agreed with a chuckle. “Wait until he gives you his ‘I’m disappointed in your choices’ speech. It’s worse than anything my ma ever tried.”

“I hope I never have to hear it; I cop enough of that from Peggy as it is.”

“What would we do without such sensible friends, though?”

“I’d hate to imagine.”

“Speaking of sensible, I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“I’ve been thinking about...well, everything, I guess.”

There was a brief pause, Bucky unwilling to push and Steve struggling for the right words. Of all the times to discuss this, Bucky hadn’t pictured it walking the streets of Brooklyn, halfway through eating an overstuffed burrito following an afternoon spent volunteering.

No time like the present, though.

“Did you decide anything?” he finally asked into the quiet space between them.

“Sort of,” Steve said, nodding slowly. “I know now isn’t the right time but I think maybe, a bit further down the track, I’d like to do something to start the process of coming out. Publicly, I mean.”

Bucky was stunned.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve continued, “I mean. I haven’t ironed out the details but I’ve started to come to terms with not being entirely straight. It’s like I’ve begun to make sense of a lot of feelings I had in the past that I refused to address properly. So in the future, I think it’s important to do something about it. Like you said, we need more athletes who are proud of who they are. Any potential backlash shouldn’t stop me from setting a good example for others.”

“That sounds amazing, Steve. I’d be happy to help, whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

They fell into a mutual silence for the last stretch, finishing up their food and throwing their trash away as they came to a gradual stop in front of Bucky’s building.

“Would you like to come up for a bit?” he offered, purely to be polite and with no ulterior motives whatsoever. Steve noticeably hesitated, backing up a step before he seemed to shake off whatever made him turn so rigid.

“I’d like that,” he said softly, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth that Bucky returned, tenfold. “But I have an early start tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” Bucky responded, face falling. “Of course. Maybe another time, then?”

“I hope so,” Steve agreed.

“Okay. Guess I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Bucky turned towards his building’s entrance, hoping to make a quick exit before he decided to do something foolish. But he hadn’t even reached for his keys when he was tugged back by a gentle grip on his elbow and pulled into a strong set of arms.

“Hang on,” Steve murmured as he closed the distance between them, smooth lips parted just enough to close over Bucky’s bottom one.

Held still by his shock, Bucky took a moment to reciprocate but eventually his mind caught up to what was happening and he pressed back against Steve, throwing his arms around his shoulders as he eagerly returned the kiss. They stood on the stoop for who knows how long, distracted by the feel of each other; the warmth where their bodies met and the gliding of their mouths. Gradually, they let the kiss come to its natural end. Bucky stared up at Steve, unblinking, as the fighter lifted one hand from his waist to brush his thumb over Bucky’s cheek softly.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you later, Buck.”

With one last peck on Bucky’s lips, Steve was back on the footpath, hailing a passing taxi. Bucky returned his fleeting wave goodbye in a daze, not moving from his place until the cab was out of sight. Then he was grinning like a madman, practically vibrating in place at how unexpectedly good this night turned out to be. 

And what that meant for them in the future.

⁂

Wakanda was beautiful. 

At least, what Bucky had the chance to see was. He wasn’t able to fly out any earlier than the day of Steve’s fight, busy with other clients at work, but he’d been determined to be there for him. So he got a stunning view of a magenta sunset on the plane as it landed at Birnin Zana Airport before he met Natasha in the terminal and rode with her to the hotel to drop off his bags and have a quick shower. Then it was straight to the arena and into their seats, just in time to hear the announcement for Steve’s entrance.

He looked dangerous, like he usually did on the walk towards the Cube, face stern and hands flexing. The new shorts looked good on him, form-fitting but with enough give to let him move freely. Bucky could admit the view from behind was more distracting than he had imagined it would be, but Steve did have a shapely arse. He also seemed to notice Bucky admiring the view, pausing in his pre-fight pacing of the Cube to wink in Bucky’s direction before he turned to shake hands with his opponent.

T’Challa looked strong. His straight posture and graceful movements gave him a regal air, but there was no doubting the power held within his muscled physique, coiled tight like he was waiting to pounce. And with the start of the fight, Bucky couldn’t help but think ‘pounce’ was the right word to use. He hadn’t seen a fighter move quite like T’Challa did; cat-like in his quick feints and lashing jabs. But Steve could hold his own. After the mess that was his last fight, he had something to prove, not only to the audience but to himself. He was meant to be here, he was meant to fight in the ACT. And he would make sure everyone else believed it too. 

As the first round ended both fighters were a little banged up and shining with sweat. T’Challa had his split eyebrow looked at while Steve’s right cheek was iced. It had been an athletic performance, at least a third of it spent in the air with the amount of leaping and swinging the pair of them did. The second round started soon after and, not a minute in, Steve landed a high kick on T’Challa’s chin that he couldn’t recover from, stumbling back and taking two more hits to either side before crumbling to the floor and tapping at the mat to signal he was done. Steve was elated, adrenaline pumping as he let out a roar and threw his fists in the air, Sam barrelling into him for a celebratory hug as soon as the door to the Cube was unlocked. While he had been confident in giving a good performance he hadn’t been guaranteed a win. It felt incredible.

Once T’Challa was back on his feet Steve made sure to check in with him and his team, hugging the man as he thanked Steve for a fun fight. They laughed together before Steve was herded backstage in a haze of excited cheers, wide grins, and friendly pats on the back. It seemed like everyone was already waiting for him and he was more than happy to embrace the jovial atmosphere. He swung Sharon around in a circle a few times and squeezed Natasha tightly as she murmured her congratulatory words in his ear. Tony had flown out just for him, which was more than he expected from his friend, but he was just as excited as the rest of them, gripping Steve by the nape of his neck as he shouted his praise directly in his face to be heard over the cacophony of noise surrounding them.

And then there was Bucky.

Patiently awaiting his turn off to the side, he smiled warmly in Steve’s direction as he was doted on by his team for the night’s success. When Tony was done with his yelling and a tight squeeze around his shoulders, Steve moved away with a look of determined purpose not too different from his predatory stalking before a fight. Bucky braced himself as he was crowded back against the wall, about to protest for the sake of Steve outing himself in front of his team. But that was just it. They were his team. His people. Clearly, he trusted them. So when that sweaty mess of a man, who somehow managed to look ethereal after such a gruelling match, leaned down and pressed his mouth to Bucky’s, he closed his eyes and fell into the feeling. They ignored the fresh wave of cheers and wolf-whistling in favour of concentrating on each other. On the way Steve was gripping Bucky’s jaw like he could meld them together permanently by sheer force of will. On how it felt to have Bucky sighing directly into his mouth while Steve flicked his tongue against Bucky’s own, pressing forward with renewed vigour. On the fact that they really needed to cool down before they spent themselves, fully-clothed and in front of their friends, but stopping sounded like the worst possible thing to do at that moment. 

Eventually, the decision was made for them when Sam walked straight up to them and dumped the contents of a water bottle on top of Steve’s head, mostly missing Bucky’s suit.

“It was necessary,” he insisted, screwing the lid back on and giving them a pointed look. “Now Steve, are you going to shower here or wait until we get back to the hotel?”

“I’m going,” he replied, squeezing at Bucky’s forearm where his hand remained then making his way through to the showers.

“Well, it’s certainly nice to see you two getting along,” Tony said, a smug expression plastered on his face as he took a sip of whatever amber liquid was in his glass. “That's a bit more than a tummy rub, though.”

Bucky couldn’t help the bright blush that graced his face but refused to feel anything but happy. Surely this meant Steve was after something more between them, hopefully beyond the closed doors of a closet. At the very least he was open to the people around them knowing. And he had already mentioned wanting to come out publicly when the time was right. So Bucky let himself smile at the thought of his future with Steve. 

Because they would wait, but not forever.

⁂

Bucky was supposed to be staying in Natasha’s hotel room but as soon as their group exited the elevator Steve grabbed hold of his hand and tugged him further down the hall. He ignored the leering smile from Sam as they passed by, instead letting Steve drag him to the door of his suite and walking inside once it was open. As he turned back to face Steve he couldn’t withhold an excited smile at what he saw. The fighter was leaning against the closed door, watching him with a hungry expression, his chest rising and falling with the pace of his quickening breaths. 

“Adrenaline is a hell of a drug,” Bucky goaded, backing up a step as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“It is,” Steve agreed, still watching him closely.

“You gonna do something with all that pent up energy?”

“If you’ll let me.”

Bucky laughed at that.

“Steve, you finger-fucked me on the gym floor at Howlies, remember? A hotel room to ourselves is a step up. Yes, I’ll let you.”

There was a suspended moment of silence before Steve tilted his head back to rest against the door and grinned filthily.

“Then undress for me, Buck.”

It was early days of this thing between him and Steve, but Bucky was certain he’d never get over that commanding tone of voice. His hands instantly began unbuttoning his shirt, clumsy as he hurried to get out of it, all while Steve just watched. He moved on to his pants quickly, undoing them while he stepped out of his shoes, nearly tripping over in his haste. When Steve finally began advancing towards him Bucky did stumble, falling onto the bedsheets and allowing the fighter to rip his pants off his legs entirely, leaving him lying there, naked in front of him. But rather than embarrassment, Bucky felt elated; like he must be worthy of the hunger he was seeing in Steve’s eyes. He looked down at Bucky like he was about to destroy him, he just hadn’t decided how yet. Bucky shivered at the thought.

Steve paused his staring to reach down into his suitcase at the end of the bed, returning with a plastic tube and a familiar foil square.

“Roll over,” he instructed, throwing the lube and condom near the pillows and out of reach.

Bucky would have been disappointed if he hadn’t felt Steve grab him by the hips and haul him closer like he weighed nothing at all. He choked back a moan when Steve began peppering kisses along his spine, edging lower and lower until—

“ _ Steve! _ ” he gasped, falling to his elbows as the man licked at his hole, two handfuls of Bucky’s arse squeezed between his palms.

Of all the things he possibly could have done, Bucky was not expecting this. How did Steve know how much he loved rimming? The vulnerability of it, the trust necessary to truly enjoy it. And how much practice has he had to do it so thoroughly? Bucky’s hands were tangled in the sheets either side of his head, face pressed against the bedding to try and stifle some of the sounds he was making.

“Wanna hear you,” was mumbled against his tailbone, a strong hand wandering up to grab hold of the joint between his shoulder and neck, hauling him onto all fours.

Bucky whined and writhed and all but wept for a few minutes more before Steve finally deemed his job done, flipping him on his back and climbing onto the bed to settle between his spread thighs.

“Hi,” Steve chuckled, moving in to kiss Bucky’s open mouth where he was still trying to catch his breath.

He groaned against Steve’s lips, grasping desperately at the man’s head, neck, shoulders, back, his hands as restless and indecisive as his simultaneous need to drag Steve as close as possible and push him back to take in the glorious sight of his bare body. _Fuck_ , he was hot. The fighter kissed him harder as he reached for the lube, slicking up his fingers before dragging them towards Bucky’s arse. Bucky was already whining, pleading for more before he’d even eased the first finger in halfway.

“Breathe, baby,” Steve instructed, gentling his tone to try and slow Bucky down. “Nice and easy, yeah? Be good for me.”

Bucky nodded mindlessly, exhaling long and slow before inhaling deeply. He let Steve set the pace. He’d let Steve do whatever he wanted, he was in charge right now and Bucky was totally fine with that. He kept at it, slow and steady, ruining any sense of composure Bucky had while he flexed his fingers inside him.

“That’s nice, baby,” he kept murmuring. “Look so good like this. Can’t believe I ever tried to stay away. Gonna let me fuck you, huh? Would you like that?”

At this point, Bucky wasn’t one for words. It felt like they’d gone from zero to a thousand, Steve finding a way to accept this part of himself and then let it loose on an unprepared Bucky. Because he was nowhere near ready for this kind of confidence from Steve. It was overwhelming in the best possible way. 

Or so he thought, until Steve took his desperate nodding for the permission it was and finally thrust inside him for the first time. Now  _ that  _ was something else. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat, his head tipping back as his body accepted Steve with little resistance. Steve bit playfully at his chin until he tipped his head down again so they could kiss once more, soft and lingering, as Steve began to move. 

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, barely audible, his hands framing the fighter’s face to keep him close, sharing breaths in the limited space between them. 

It came out like a single, continuous sound, Stevesteve _ steve _ , again and again until his name blurred into moans timed perfectly with each of his thrusts.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve practically growled, his grip tight around Bucky’s thighs to keep him close. Keep him deep. Keep him groaning.

It was almost too soon, but also not soon enough, when Bucky began pleading to come. Steve’s smirk was disgustingly pleased. He knew exactly what he was doing to Bucky and had no plans to let up.

“When I say, okay gorgeous? Come when I say. No touching yourself though. Show me how good it feels. Just me.”

The pace picked up and had Bucky squirming even further down the bed, trying to get closer to where Steve’s cock was buried inside him. He heard a stuttered gasp before Steve was groaning for him to come, come now, come for me, baby.

Bucky swore he must have blacked out at the rush of pleasure that ran through him with his release. When he finally gathered enough brain cells to inhale, Steve was still shuddering above him, face pressed against his shoulder and arms looped tightly around his waist, holding him still. A moment later Steve raised his head, shuffling close enough to kiss him again.

“Thank you,” he sighed. 

“Same to you,” Bucky mumbled in response. “How did you even manage that? Aren’t you sore from the fight?”

“Oh, I will definitely feel it tomorrow. Couldn’t help myself though.”

Bucky could feel his cheeks heating up in a blush but couldn’t help but grin at Steve, who met his gaze with a bright smile of his own.

“You were incredible,” Bucky whispered into the air between them, swiping his fingers over Steve’s lightly bruised cheek and back through his blond hair.

“In the Cube or just now?” he goaded.

Bucky chose to respond to that with a playful shove that devolved into some more kissing before they curled up together and settled in for the night.


	11. He Speaks

Bucky woke up warm and content, surrounded by puffy white sheets with beams of sunlight caressing his exposed back. Inhaling deeply, he blinked his eyes open and smiled at the sight before him. Steve was still asleep, curled up on his side, one hand tucked under his chin, the other wrapped loosely around Bucky’s wrist. Last night seemed like a fever dream but the pleasant ache of Bucky’s body couldn’t be faked. And now they were lying beside each other in a soft bed, Steve’s hair shining golden in the morning light, his eyes flickering open slowly to meet Bucky’s gaze as if he could sense his staring.

He might still be dreaming.

“Hi,” Bucky whispered.

“Morning,” Steve mumbled, reaching out his hand to brush it against Bucky’s cheek.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Sore,” he mumbled, rolling onto his back and stretching out his limbs, groaning when something cracked back into place. 

“Too sore to see a few sights before we fly home?” Bucky tried, sitting up and stretching out his own muscles with a few arm movements. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, all I really wanted to do was go see this waterfall that’s supposed to be the site of an ancient Wakandan ritual. Apparently, you’re permitted a blessing from the Panther Goddess Bast if you’re worthy or something like that.”

“A blessing from a Goddess? I could do with one of those,” Steve agreed with a smile. 

“I’ll double-check it’s okay with Natasha. Wouldn’t want to miss our flight.”

“Okay. I’m going to grab a shower and get ready. Better look good if I want to impress Bast.”

⁂

Their quick trip through town towards the mountains took longer than planned because Bucky was distracted by every other thing they passed. Steve had dragged him away from the flea market, bought him some kind of spicy chicken dish from a food vendor, and thought he was in the clear once they reached the lesser-populated fields on the outskirts of the village only to be forced to stop and pet some goats over a wooden fence. It wasn’t until Steve reminded him of their evening flight back to New York that they really got a move on. 

When they finally arrived at the site they were both stunned into silence. The rocky formation jutted from the side of a mountain, surrounded by a sparkling mist created by the spring of water that flowed down in various streams before pooling on the different levels, creating multiple waterfalls and crystal clear lakes. There were carvings etched into the surface of the rockface, some maintaining the remnants of bright colours painted in an ancient time, now faded to more muted tones. Even more impressive than all of that was the giant stone figure of a growling panther, perched on top of the mountain, overlooking the city they had come from.

“Wow,” Bucky finally managed.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed.

They admired the sight for a moment longer before Bucky spotted the plaque nearby. 

“It says we should clear our minds and breathe deeply if you want her blessing,” he murmured, nudging Steve’s arm.

“Sure,” he said, dropping down to sit on the grass where he stood, legs crossed and eyes closed.

Bucky smiled at Steve before joining him on the grass, inhaling deeply as he closed his eyes and tried to meditate. He lasted all of thirty seconds before his thoughts inevitably drifted to what he would ask for if Bast was the wish-granting kind of goddess. The old Bucky might have wished for ongoing success in his career. Good clients and great ideas. A promotion, even. Now though...there were more important things in his life. He wanted his friends to be happy. He wanted Steve to be content with who he was. He wanted them to have a future together. He wanted a life filled with love. He wanted Steve to be proud of what they could have together because he believed it could be something special.

Almost as if he could hear Bucky’s thoughts, Steve reached out and took his hand, squeezing gently. Bucky blinked his eyes open, looking over at the fighter to see him staring up at the mountain and smiling contently.

“This was a really nice idea, Buck,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Bucky returned his smile when Steve eventually turned towards him, intertwining his fingers with Steve’s.

“I’m glad you think so,” he replied, just as quietly, turning back to the hum of the waterfalls and enjoying the serenity of the moment for a bit longer.

⁂

The flight back was uneventful. They arrived at the airport ahead of schedule thanks to Natasha, got to enjoy another famous Wakandan sunset over the city of Birnin Zana from the air as they took off and kept themselves occupied for the time before they landed. Steve squeezed in a nap, head cushioned against Bucky’s shoulder while he made his way through some research for another PR client before he nodded off for a while as well. It wasn’t until they had nearly arrived back in New York that Bucky bothered to check his phone and noticed a few notifications from his news alerts. 

He froze at what he saw.

“Natasha,” he hissed, turning slowly towards a still sleeping Steve before trying to manoeuvre him to lean against the window.

“Yes?” Natasha responded from the row ahead.

He didn’t say anything, just handed his phone to her. She took a moment to look, letting Sam see it as well, then handed it back. 

“Don’t tell him anything until we touch down. We’re going straight to Howlies from the airport to regroup. Let’s hope none of the press care enough to try and meet us there.”

Bucky nodded, trusting her judgement. There was no use in scaring him like that, not when they were out in the open.

It didn’t make it any easier to keep it from Steve though.

As soon as he was roused from his sleep by the call to buckle their seatbelts for landing, Steve was eyeing Bucky suspiciously.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” Bucky said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but it didn’t feel very convincing.

When they made it through luggage claim without any incidents Bucky thought they were in the clear. It wasn’t until they went outside to get in the car Natasha organised for them that everything went to shit.

The guy was dressed innocuously, only holding his phone as he approached.

“Congrats on the fight Steve. Any comment on the photos of you and the mystery man?”

“Excuse me?” Steve responded.

Bucky went into crisis mode, intercepting the conversation as Natasha dragged Steve into the backseat of the car.

“I’m afraid there’s no comment at this time.”

“Are you him?” the guy continued.

“No comment,” Bucky repeated, climbing in after Steve.

“What was that about?” Steve was already asking as they pulled away from the curb.

Nobody spoke.

Steve glanced around at all of them before stopping to stare at Bucky.

“Buck. What was he talking about?”

Swallowing thickly, he looked to Natasha who shook her head subtly.

“We’re heading to Howlies,” he finally responded. “Can you wait until we get there?”

There was a moment when he thought Steve would disagree and demand to know the truth now, but that wasn’t the case.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Okay. I trust you.”

That made him feel worse.

The four of them headed straight to Natasha’s office when they arrived at Howlies, making a beeline through the gym while Bucky silently thanked all the members for knowing better than to approach. Once the door closed behind them they stewed in an awkward silence before Sam huffed a breath and sat down on the couch, pulling Steve into the spot beside him.

“Show him,” he said, plain and simple.

Steve still looked so confused when Bucky reached for his phone, opening up his news browser and finding the story in question, complete with its blurry photos. Hesitating only a second, Steve accepted the device and looked down at the screen. Instantly, his jaw tensed and his breathing stopped. They let him take his time, averting their eyes as he scrolled through the article. While he paused occasionally to read the paragraphs it was the image at the top that he kept returning to.

The one that showed a slightly blurred photo of Steve and Bucky backstage after the fight in the middle of their victory kiss.

Bucky hated it. They had been so close. Steve had been building up to it, he’d wanted to come out eventually, when he was ready and on his own terms. And now he was holding Bucky’s phone in a white-knuckled grip while he read a stupid article speculating about his private life.

“Steve?” Natasha asked, breaking the silence.

It took another second for him to look up at them, sighing heavily and with a tired expression. He huffed out a dejected laugh before holding out Bucky’s phone for him to take back.

“Steve?” Bucky tried. 

“Do you have a plan?”

Swallowing thickly, he nodded at Steve.

“A few, actually. It’s my job to be prepared.”

“Are any of them to admit it?”

“Steve—”

“It happened, okay. I was going to tell everyone eventually, now I’m just going to do it sooner.”

He must have seen something in Bucky’s face, because he gave him a reassuring smile and added, “It’s okay, Buck.”

“It’s not,” he disagreed. “I’m sorry it happened. It shouldn’t have.”

“But it did and we’re going to respond to it honestly.”

“...If you’re sure.”

“As sure as I can be after being forced out of the closet.”

“We’ve all got your back, Steve,” Sam told him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and squeezing him into his side.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll start making arrangements,” Bucky said. “Do you know how you want to do it?”

Steve nodded.

⁂

Bucky was biting his nails from his place behind the camera. Steve was stoic and calm as he paced, completing one last lap of the room before he took a seat and nodded for them to begin recording. They’d agreed to put together a video of Steve addressing the images and officially coming out. It was simple to do and less confronting than a press conference or TV interview. 

Relaxing back into the leather cushions of the couch in Natasha’s office, Steve wiped his palms against his jean-clad thighs, breathed in deeply then smiled at the camera.

“Hello, everyone. I’m Steve Rogers, an iron-weight fighter in the Avengers Combat Tournament. Following my most recent match against T’Challa in Wakanda, some photos of me have been circulating and I’d like to address the matter in an official capacity. For those of you who haven’t seen them, they were taken backstage without permission and depict me and another man kissing in celebration of the night’s win. I hope anyone with something negative to say about the fact that we’re both men can take a long look at themselves and realise that those opinions come from a place of ignorance and discrimination that has no place in this world, let alone this sport. 

“I’ve denied this part of my identity my entire life and I believe it was due in some respects to the stereotypes present in sporting culture and expectations of what it means to be a man. I didn’t feel like it would be safe to be honest about this part of myself as an ACT athlete without risking all the work my team and I put into my career, and I applaud others who have had the courage to come out in the face of this potential backlash in similar situations before me. But it shouldn’t be something to be lauded as brave. There shouldn’t be a danger or risk in being honest about who you are. I can’t help but wonder what my life would have been like if there were more role models for me growing up. Maybe I wouldn’t have shoved it down so hard. Maybe I would have realised how I truly felt earlier and had more time to come to grips with it. Maybe I wouldn’t have been forced to make this statement before I was ready because I had already done it on my own terms. It’s with all this in mind that I want to officially say that while I’m not sure how exactly I identify just yet, I’m certainly not straight, and if hearing that helps even one young person out there struggling with their own identity then I’ve done my job. 

“I’d appreciate it if people would refrain from speculating about the other man in the photos. This is a private matter and our relationship is very new. I’m still working through a lot of internalised conflict that has prevented me from addressing this aspect of my life for so long and he’s helping me do that, so I’d prefer if we were left to do so without outside interference. I’ve seen some of the comments online and while many are supportive, there are some I don’t care for and a lot of them seem to be aimed at him. All you need to know is that we are two consenting adults enjoying each other’s company who both just happen to be men. And that shouldn’t be something people take issue with, especially nowadays. I try to operate from a place of respect and kindness in my life and would like the same from all of you. I think the world would be a better place if more people learned to be kind and I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one. Thank you.”

Bucky stopped the recording and walked over to him. He reached out and took Steve’s hand, squeezing it gently. Steve returned the pressure then pressed Bucky’s knuckles to his lips.

“It was really good, Steve,” he said, ignoring the wetness of his eyes.

“Thanks, Buck.”

“Did you write that down first? Or was it off the top of your head?” Sam interjected from his place in the corner.

Steve laughed.

⁂

Bucky convinced Steve to come back to his place for dinner. He wanted him to take it easy for a night, knowing in his gut that Steve would work himself into a flurry about the video if left alone with his thoughts for too long. He wanted to distract him, but he also wanted them to celebrate.

“I still don’t know if you realise how important this will be,” Bucky said, focusing on the pasta sauce he was stirring.

“How could I not when you keep reminding me?” Steve chuckled from his place at the chopping board, preparing a salad.

“Well, it’s true. You’re doing a really good thing, Steve. Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?” he asked, pausing his slicing to focus on Bucky.

“Because you’re making the world a better place and I happen to live in the world. Duh.”

Steve shook his head incredulously, chuckling. He put down the knife and made his way over, taking the wooden spoon out of Bucky’s hand so that he could pull him into a tight hug.

“You’re ridiculous,” he mumbled against Bucky’s hair, resting his chin on his head. 

“And you’re amazing,” he replied, happily tucked against Steve’s broad chest.

“I wouldn’t have done this without you. Like, yeah, you being your irresistible self is the reason I first got into this mess, but I mean...I wouldn’t have been brave enough to tackle it head-on without you. And I hate to think how it might have happened without you there, in my corner.”

Bucky leant away from Steve to look at his face, smiling at the sincerity he saw in his expression.

“Of course, Steve. I’m with you.”

The fighter smiled, tearful but happy.

“My ma used to say something like that.”

“Yeah?”

“To the end of the line. I’m with you to the end of the line.”

“Well, I am.”

“Yeah. I’m with you too, Buck. To the end of the line.”

“To the end of the line.”

Steve kissed him then, softly—barely a brush of his lips. Bucky wasn’t having that. Taking a moment to turn off the burner so the sauce wouldn’t be ruined, he cupped Steve’s head between his hands and firmly pulled him into a deep kiss. With a pleased hum, Steve accepted his enthusiastic efforts, gripping Bucky by the hips as he stepped back to lean on the counter behind him, spreading his legs so he could pull Bucky into the space between them. Grinning against Steve’s mouth, Bucky brought his hands down in a slow drag from his neck to his chest and further until he reached his jeans. He sighed happily as Steve mouthed at his jaw while he was busy trying to undo his belt.

“This fucking thing,” he grumbled, finally getting it unbuckled so he could get Steve’s dick out.

With one last peck against Steve’s lips, Bucky dropped to his knees and made quick work of getting as much of Steve in his mouth as quickly as possible.

“ _ Buck _ ,” he sighed, head rolling back for a moment before he dragged his gaze down to watch Bucky work.

Steve placed a gentle hand on the back of his neck, but let Bucky set his own pace. Saw the way his cheeks hollowed as he sucked, eyelashes dark as he blinked slowly up at Steve. He had one hand wrapped around the base of Steve’s cock, the other locked in Steve’s grip, resting against the counter so he wouldn’t collapse in a heap, their fingers intertwined tightly. With each bitten-off groan and sharp inhale from Steve, Bucky was spurred on, picking up speed and battling against his gag reflex to take more.

“God, baby, you’re too good. So good for me,” Steve mumbled, licking his lips, that hungry look in his eyes.

Bucky whined, choking a little as he forced himself to push his own limits. It was worth it to hear Steve’s shocked gasp, an open-mouthed grin like sunshine spreading across his face.

“I’m close. Just a little more, huh?”

Bucky could feel the grooves beneath his fingers that he was digging into Steve’s hand, his grip squeezing uncontrollably as he kept swallowing around him. He wanted him to come. He wanted to be good for him, wanted him to look down and be proud of Bucky for being able to please him the way he could. Wanted to hear the groan of his release and feel the warmth in his mouth before he swallowed.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that, nearly there, I’m so clo—”

Steve interrupted his own rambling as he came, tugging a little at Bucky’s hair as he climaxed with a low, stuttered moan. Bucky didn’t stop, kept sliding smoothly over his cock as he shuddered and tried to stay there just a touch longer than was comfortable for Steve. He eventually relented to Steve’s nudging, removing his mouth with one last, slow glide, his tongue pressed firmly against the underside. 

“You’re good at that,” Steve said on an exhale, rubbing his thumb against Bucky’s swollen lip. 

Beaming ecstatically, Bucky got to his feet and accepted Steve’s tongue in his mouth as he pulled him in for another thorough kiss.

“Your turn?” he mumbled against Bucky’s mouth, nipping lightly at his bottom lip.

“That’s okay,” Bucky insisted with a soft smile. “You deserved something special tonight. And now I’m gonna finish making you dinner and we’re going to eat then watch a movie and just relax.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Steve kissed him one more time before letting him turn back to the stove and start cooking again.

“The night’s still young anyway,” Bucky added with a shrug, giggling at the quick pinch on the butt it earned him.

⁂

Steve gave himself a week before he went back to Howlies and started training again. The video had been up for a few days by then, but nobody mentioned anything to him. In fact, nothing really changed at all, except for the friendly smiles from a couple other gym-goers he didn’t know very well but seemingly had the support of. It felt like solidarity. Steve was glad for it.

Bucky advised him to stay away from social media and ACT news, wary of the potential backlash following his public coming out. He didn’t want Steve to be subject to ‘useless trolls wanking some homophobic bullshit all over the internet’. 

_ Fair enough _ .

Steve didn’t really have time for that anyway. Sam was quick to get him back to his usual training regime, nothing intense since there was no fight scheduled but enough to keep him at his base level of fitness. It was calming, comforting, to be back to his usual routine after the whirlwind of drama. He wasn’t accustomed to it.

He was just wrapping up a cardio circuit when he spied Bucky powering through the entrance to Howlies and making a beeline for Nat’s office. Steve decided to finish his workout before he went in after them, or he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Sam.

Drink bottle in hand and towel pressed to his sweaty forehead, Steve walked across the floor to Natasha’s office when he finished his circuit. He found her with her arms wrapped around Bucky, the two of them sporting wide grins, chattering excitedly over the top of each other as they hopped around in a clumsy circle.

“Did I miss something?” he interrupted.

“Steve!” they both exclaimed, turning to face him and waving him over.

“What is it?” he asked, edging closer.

“Great news,” Natasha said, grabbing hold of his bicep in a strong grip and shaking it roughly.

“What?” he asked again.

“Come see this,” Bucky said, walking to the desk where Nat’s computer sat.

Steve came up behind him to watch the video Bucky was restarting. It was Thor, a fellow fighter and the current champion of the iron-weight class. He was seated at a table, obviously at some kind of press conference judging by the sporadic camera flashes and the microphone placed in front of him.

“Watch, just watch,” Bucky mumbled excitedly, pushing Steve closer to the screen as he turned the volume up.

“Karen Page, New York Bulletin. Thor, I was wondering if you’d seen the video from Steve Rogers that was released earlier this week? Did you have any thoughts on the matter?”

Steve could picture the blond reporter from his feature article that felt so long ago now. He hoped his first impression of her was right and she didn’t intend for this line of questioning to take a negative turn.

“Yes!” Thor all but shouted, always boisterous. “I did see Steven’s video and was very proud of my brother in combat. It is no easy task being so honest about your personal life, especially to many strangers. My own family has had some experience in this area.”

“Are you referring to Loki?”

“Loki, my sibling, yes. Our father’s own success in ACT meant we grew up in a spotlight of sorts so it was difficult at times, navigating Loki’s identity in the public eye. But we all felt much relieved when they decided to be open about being queer in both gender and sexuality; they were happier then, even if it proved a struggle on occasion. I hope Steven feels a similar way now. I would love nothing more than to face him in the Cube to show my respect for his bravery. It would be an honour to go up against him.”

Bucky hit pause and looked at Steve expectantly, a delighted grin on his face.

“Well?” he prompted, brushing his fingers against Steve’s arm.

“Thor wants to fight me...because he respects me for coming out.”

“Yeah, Stevie.”

“Thor Odinson, the iron-weight champion. I have his support.”

“Yes.”

“Congratulations, Steve,” Natasha said softly, squeezing his shoulder as she smiled at him. “You’ve got yourself a shot at the championship title.”


	12. Epilogue

Steve growled at his right leg, shoving his knee downwards to try and stop it from bouncing. He was nervous. He’d never felt this nervous before a fight. What was happening to him?

“You okay?”

He hummed in response to Bucky’s question, nodding absently as he stared out the window, the buildings of Manhattan passing by in a grey blur. A gentle pressure against his shoulder had him turning, a small smile softening his expression when he found Bucky’s head resting against his shoulder, a silent offering of comfort. Steve pressed a kiss against his brow in thanks.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Bucky mumbled, squeezing his arm just as the car turned towards the venue.

“We’ll see,” Steve allowed, beginning to breathe deeply as he prepared himself for tonight.

Once they were inside, Sam swept him away so he could start getting into the right mindset. There were a couple hours yet before he was expected in the Cube, but it took a long time for Steve to feel ready. Particularly tonight, when he was given an unprecedented opportunity to become iron-weight champion. He was barely out of the amateur leagues. Did he even—

“You deserve this,” Sam said, as if he could hear Steve’s doubtful thoughts. He came over and grabbed hold of Steve’s shoulders, sitting him down on a bench and staring him straight in the eye. “You are an incredible fighter, Steve. I see it, Nat sees it, the entire Howlies crew sees it and now so does Thor Odinson. You deserve a chance at the title and you absolutely could win it. Stop thinking you don’t stand a chance.”

Steve took a moment to stare at Sam, but there was no hesitation in his friend’s gaze. He really believed Steve could do it.

“Alright,” he agreed. 

“Alright,” Sam repeated.

He left Steve for a while, let him close his eyes and get in the zone, his breathing falling into a regular pattern of deep, slow inhales and exhales. His heartbeat followed suit. With less than an hour before he was set to fight, he wrapped his hands and started stretching, listening to Sam as he gently guided him through each position, then shifted into some warm-up exercises. Sam held out the focus pads for Steve to aim at, sounding off combinations one after the other. Eventually they got the call, ‘Ten minutes!’, and they moved. 

Steve knew he’d fought in this stadium before, but by now his premiere match in the ACT felt an age away. As they walked through the hallways, the indecipherable hum of the audience slowly transformed into a repetitive chant of, ‘Cap! Cap! Cap!’, his moniker greeting him in a wave of sound as he stepped into the arena. It seemed different; the crowd louder, the lights brighter, the walk towards the Cube lasting longer than he recalled. It felt different. He felt different. He felt more like himself.

Sam held out his hands for Steve’s shirt and pants, leaving him in his dark blue shorts, the star on his thigh almost glowing under the fluorescent lighting. He accepted the mouthguard, rolled his head back and stepped into the Cube. 

Thor was waiting for him, a broad smile stretched over the red guard covering his teeth.

“Steven!” he shouted. “I am so excited to see you in the flesh!”

“And you,” Steve barely managed to reply before he was dragged into a strong embrace by the other man.

“You should be very proud of yourself,” Thor continued, quieter now that he had Steve pressed against him. “It was no small act of bravery.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, squeezing a bit harder before they each stepped back.

“Let’s give them a show,” Thor laughed, clasping Steve’s forearm before they finally separated.

“Can I check him over now?” 

Thor dipped his head in an acceding bow, gesturing for the referee to take his place in front of Steve. Rocket was a small, but inordinately hairy man, his well-sculpted beard and wildly tall hair mainstays of ACT, rivalling even Tony’s goatee in their infamy. Steve let him check his hands and feet, bending down so he could inspect his mouthguard, and accepting a weak slap against his cheek as final approval. 

“Listen up boys,” Rocket said, his voice echoing around the stadium. “We’re all looking forward to this fight, so stick to the rules so I don’t have to end it early. We’re fighting until one of you is knocked out or taps out, but if you both last the three rounds then it’ll be about the points. I got money on this so please, make it exciting.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” Clint’s voice sounded from the commentary booth.

“Ah, it’s fine,” Rocket shrugged off with a wave of his hand. “Ready?”

Steve nodded.

Thor gave an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Go!”

⁂

As the Cube turned blue, signalling the end to the third round, Steve didn’t feel angry like he usually would. In fact, he was elated. He’d lasted all three rounds against Thor, meeting each of his heavy, hammer-like hits with a flurry of his own hard punches and quick weaves. This match had been different from the start, his goal not necessarily to dominate the fight but rather to prove he could go the distance against the more seasoned athletes. And who was more fitting of that description than one of their champions?

Steve wiped his sweaty brow and licked at the cut on his lip, the bloody split stinging but a souvenir he would wear proudly until it healed. Thor pulled him into another overwhelming hug, congratulating him as they swayed back and forth. 

“Thank you for the match, Thor,” he mumbled, arms wound just as tightly around the large man.

“It will forever be one of my favourites. You’re a worthy opponent.”

They were both grinning still as Rocket stepped between them, announcing that they’d have to wait for the judge’s scores to determine a winner. In the interim time, Sam made his way over, hugging him tightly and yelling with even more enthusiasm than Steve was showing. As he laughed over his friend’s shoulder he spotted some familiar faces in the crowd, one in particular drawing his attention. He smiled and lifted one hand in a small wave, sending a cheeky wink Bucky’s way.

“Okay, okay, who wants to hear the results?” Rocket shouted.

The audience screamed in response.

Steve didn’t need to hear the numbers, he already knew he’d lost. He’d been on the defensive a little too often, but the scores were so close, it didn’t even feel like that big of a deal. Steve felt happier than he had in a long time. Win or lose, he’d done something important that day, not just for others, but for himself too. He’d proved that he still had his future in the ACT. That people would remember his name. That he could make a difference in the world.

⁂

Tony had insisted on hosting a celebration at Avengers Tower and the guest list was extensive. As Steve arrived, he was greeted by the usual ACT corporate team, Pepper included, who let out an undignified squeal when she caught sight of him that Steve would never have thought her capable of.

“I know you didn’t win but it was incredible to watch. You’ve done so well, Steve,” she said in a hurry, hugging him gently with a commiserating pat on his back. “And you should know that we’ve got your back, no matter what happens next.”

Before he could respond he was nearly knocked over by a now-familiar body, Thor lifting him off his feet with a booming laugh.

“I nearly disputed the results,” he said, setting Steve back on his feet. “I would have thought it a draw.”

“No, no, you won, fair and square,” Steve replied. “I’m still just happy to have been given the chance.”

“It will not be the last, I’m sure.”

“I look forward to seeing the sequel,” a sly voice chuckled, Loki appearing from behind the broad shoulders of their brother. “Lovely to meet you, Steve.”

“And you,” Steve said, accepting their outstretched hand.

“I’m not sure you’re aware of the significance your video has had; it’s going to change things. I hope you and that mystery man of yours make it through the media shitstorm so you can enjoy the impact you’ve had.”

“Thank you. He’s around him somewhere, I’ll be sure to introduce you both.”

Steve then found himself shaking hands with T’Challa and a small collective of Wakandan fighters, all with nothing but kind words to say. 

“We are a very proud and honest people, we value bravery,” T’Challa said, his voice rich and regal in its sincerity. “And the manner in which you handled yourself was admirable and dignified, to say the least. We were happy to come here and show our support.”

Steve could have cried at the sheer relief those words provided him. He opted to thank the man instead, holding onto his hand for probably too long.

After that, it was a stream of accepting congratulatory hugs and handshakes from people he recognised, both as acquaintances and familiar faces from afar. People he’d fought, people he’d supported, people who were responsible for his acceptance in the Tournament. It felt like hours before he was finally pulled away from the crowd to a quieter corner by Natasha’s steady grip on his arm.

“You look like you’ll collapse if you have to shake another hand,” she chuckled, depositing him in the seat at the bar beside Sam, surrounded by the rest of his friends from Howlies.

“What will you be having, Steve?” Tony asked him. “On the house.”

“You always do an open bar, Stark, everything’s on the house.”

“Yes, well, it’s still my shout then, isn’t it,” he sniffed, setting a beer in front of him.

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve replied, clinking his bottle against Tony’s raised glass. “Where’s—?”

He didn’t have to finish his question, spying Bucky out on the balcony, phone pressed against his ear as he paced absently, hand in his pocket and staring out at the view.  _ God _ , Steve thought. The sight looked like it belonged in an art gallery. Without another word, he stood up and walked towards him, stepping over the threshold into the crisp breeze just as Bucky hung up.

“Working hard?” he asked, smiling when Bucky jolted in surprise, fumbling his phone before he dropped it. 

“Yes, actually. You’re not my only client, you know.”

“I appreciate the reminder. Wouldn’t want to think myself special.” 

Bucky tried to hold back the smirk as Steve approached, trying for an air of indifference.

“Don’t know what would make you think that.”

“No?”

Bucky wasn’t a very good actor, his entire charade falling as soon as Steve was within reaching distance. He let himself be pulled forward, accepting the soft kiss Bucky pressed against his lips.

“How are you feeling, champ?”

“I’m not the champ.”

Bucky sighed.

“I know.”

“It’s not important,” Steve shrugged.

That seemed to surprise Bucky, who stared at him with a calculating expression.

“Why not?” he asked eventually.

“Because it isn’t. Tonight wasn’t about the end results, it was about the match itself. The fact that Thor wanted to show his support. The fact that everyone in there showed their support.” Steve turned to the roomful of people, each of them accepting of who he was. He smiled. “I am so unbelievably happy right now.”

He turned back to Bucky, who was watching him with a pleased look on his face, his hand reaching up to stroke Steve’s cheek.

“You should be, Steve,” he said, voice quiet. Intimate. Looking up at him like he knew exactly how Steve felt in that moment and wanted nothing more than to make sure he stayed that way. And to think, he nearly ruined this. Steve could just as easily have scared Bucky off in those first few weeks, before he came to terms with what was causing his bad attitude. He owed this happiness to Bucky. To his determination and kindness. His willingness to see past Steve’s behaviour, to recognise who he was behind the walls he’d built up. And now that they were here, together, his only regret was that it could have happened sooner. But Bucky would never hold that against him. The same way he was willing to take everything at Steve’s pace. The same way he cared about Steve’s career, understood how much it meant to him and only wanted him to succeed. Steve had so few people in his life that he felt so strongly about, and in such a short amount of time Bucky had proved that he deserved to be included in that list. Might even have a top spot at this point. And how could he not? How could Steve not care deeply about someone so special?

_ I’m going to fall in love with you _ , he thought.

“Steve!” Buck gasped, mouth falling open in shock.

“...Was that out loud?”

The smile that appeared on Bucky’s face felt like a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just like that, it's finished!
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who helped along the way, and to all of you who enjoyed reading this story. Much love to you all.


End file.
